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**The Long Ryders - Native Sons: A Triumphant Return from the Paisley Underground's Finest**

★★★★☆

After nearly three decades of silence, The Long Ryders' 2019 reunion album "Native Sons" arrived like a dusty telegram from the American heartland – weathered, authentic, and carrying news that rock and roll's pioneers are still very much alive. The fact that this album exists at all feels miraculous, considering the band's acrimonious split in 1987 left fans wondering if Sid Griffin, Stephen McCarthy, Tom Stevens, and Greg Sowders would ever share a stage again, let alone a recording studio.

The Long Ryders disbanded at their creative peak, victims of the classic rock and roll curse: too much touring, too little money, and egos that had grown larger than their cult following. By 1987, they'd released three critically acclaimed albums that helped define the Paisley Underground movement, but commercial success remained frustratingly elusive. Griffin relocated to London, McCarthy pursued various musical projects, and their pioneering blend of jangly guitars and country-rock seemed destined for the dustbin of "what might have been."

But time, as they say, heals most wounds, and "Native Sons" proves that some musical chemistry is simply too potent to stay buried forever. The album crackles with the same energy that made their 1983 debut "10-5-60" such a revelation – that perfect marriage of Byrds-influenced jangle, punk attitude, and Americana storytelling that predated the alt-country movement by a decade.

Opening track "What the Eagle Sees" immediately establishes that this isn't some nostalgic cash grab. Griffin's vocals retain their urgent, slightly nasal quality, while the band's trademark 12-string Rickenbacker sound rings out with crystalline clarity. The song's environmental themes feel remarkably contemporary, proving these guys haven't spent the last thirty years living in the past.

The album's standout moment comes with "Greenville," a haunting meditation on small-town decay that showcases the band's evolved songwriting chops. McCarthy's pedal steel weaves through the mix like smoke from a dying campfire, while the rhythm section of Stevens and Sowders locks into a groove that's both familiar and fresh. It's the kind of song that reminds you why The Long Ryders were always more than just another retro act – they were genuine storytellers with something meaningful to say about American life.

"Let It Fly" delivers the album's most infectious hook, a mid-tempo rocker that could have easily slotted into their classic 1985 album "State of Our Union." The interplay between Griffin and McCarthy's guitars recalls their best work, all chiming harmonics and interlocking melodies that create a wall of beautiful noise. Meanwhile, "Molly Somebody" strips things down to their essence – just acoustic guitars, harmony vocals, and a melody that burrows into your brain and sets up permanent residence.

The production, handled by the band themselves along with Thom Monahan, strikes the perfect balance between polish and grit. These songs breathe with organic warmth, capturing the spontaneity of a band rediscovering their musical telepathy while avoiding the over-compressed sound that plagues so many modern rock records.

Musically, The Long Ryders remain impossible to pigeonhole, which is exactly how it should be. They're too country for punk, too punk for country, too American for the Brit-pop revival, and too timeless for the indie rock crowd. "Native Sons" finds them occupying that same sweet spot they carved out in the '80s, where Gram Parsons meets The Clash and somehow it all makes perfect sense.

While the album occasionally feels like the band is playing it safe – a few tracks drift by without making much impression – the overall effect is remarkably cohesive. At 45 minutes, it doesn't overstay its welcome, and the sequencing creates a satisfying arc from the opening salvo through the contemplative closer "Psychedelic Country Soul."

"Native Sons" may have arrived thirty-two years late, but it proves that great bands don't simply disappear – they hibernate, waiting for the right moment to remind the world why they mattered in the first place. The Long Ryders' influence can be heard in everyone from Wilco to The Jayhawks to countless indie acts mining similar Americana territory, but the originators still have plenty to teach their disciples. Sometimes the best reunions are worth