Be it film, television, or even cartoons, that old tired trope of being a bar patron will never die. This barfly frequents an establishment to confide in the bartender while consuming their favorite adult beverage. The character unwinds, socializes, and/or sulks about life, working through their issues. Most of the time, the trope helps the viewer to identify with the character. After all, most of us have day-to-day issues to work through, so having a shred of self-awareness can go a long way. But what if you don’t frequent bars or don’t even drink? Is the scene still relatable?
This is the question I asked myself when listening to RJ Bloke and his new album, Hold Drugs Dear.
RJ Bloke (real name – Jay Souza) is no stranger to what some call “drinkin’ songs.” He has fronted the band Patrolled By Radar for years. But where PBR felt like the band playing at your favorite dive bar, this solo outing has a stronger emphasis on the barfly. Or, as Souza grumbles on the opening track,
“I know how to crawl from one swinging door to the other. It’s in season if it’s on the wall.”
Part foreshadowing and early revelation, Hold Drugs Dear knows exactly what kind of album it is from the start. Behind a mix of swirling acoustic guitars and the twang of single-coil electric guitars, each track feels like a bleary-eyed monologue from someone speaking squarely from the heart. Most of the time, the topic of discussion is one’s demons. This runs from the aforementioned opening track, “Born Thirsty” to the sweet sting of love lost in “Where Are You Now.”
The album’s protagonist tackles the human condition head-on with the perfect combination of reluctance and ownership. Nothing feels cheap or romanticized like mainstream country songs. The heartache in “I Feel Found” may be filtered through the bottom of a glass, but at least it isn’t an Instagram filter.
As far as influences go, Bob Dylan and Neil Young are obvious, but RJ Bloke isn’t a paint-by-numbers singer-songwriter. For every taste of Americana and alt-country, he also makes the case for folk and blue-eyed soul. Bloke is commanding and vulnerable is up to the challenge, and his performance is heartfelt and conversational.
Hold Drugs Dear shares subtle commentary on the world outside the establishment.
“All You Need Is Enough” shines a light on how dysfunctional our heroes might be underneath the sheen of Stan Lee-esque armor. “Coast Is Clear” questions our awareness of everything from workplace politics and Chernobyl to the politeness of a stranger on the street. The title track would be a scathing closer look at lawmakers and senators from the best of Bob Dylan records if it didn’t remind the listener that when you point your finger, three fingers point back at you.
This unrelenting sense of self-reflection elevates Hold Drugs Dear well beyond a simple “drinkin’ album.” Whether you drink or not, every one of us can relate to being crushed under the weight of life. But the calamity of world leaders, crooked politics, and weapons of mass consumption doesn’t mean we should ignore everyday life. What seems small and trivial on the world stage can still be larger than life to a single person.
I’ve started 2025 in a bit of a mental funk.
From the results of the recent US election to the emotional baggage of the holidays and my own personal hurdles, it’s been rough. Reaching out to my friend and podcast co-host to discuss possible guest ideas felt dirty when homes and lives were being obliterated by fire in Los Angeles. Seeking out albums to cover wasn’t doing it for me. I get overwhelmed when I think about how difficult life will be for the majority of the country over the next four years. Things feel a little too dire to be excited. With so much weight on our shoulders and hearts, we don’t really know how to feel right now.
However, we’re not alone in our fears and concerns. Outside the rich and powerful, most people feel this way. And that’s okay. We don’t have to force ourselves to be happy or content. But we should also look for ways to enjoy a record, film, or the company of a friend. Forfeiting any enjoyment, present or future, means lying down and giving up. We’ve all come too far to do that! Maybe we just need a safe place or person to confide in or vent our frustrations. Perhaps a hypothetical bartender?
With Hold Drugs Dear, RJ Bloke answered my question: Yes, the barfly trope is still relatable even if you don’t drink.
Hold Drugs Dear is available on CD, cassette, and vinyl from Nomad Eel Records and streaming at Bandcamp.