Forty years can change a lot about music, but for Rusty Reid, it hasn’t dulled the raw pulse of rock and roll. His latest release, The Unreasonables, isn’t a new record in the traditional sense—it’s a resurrection. Recorded decades ago, then shelved and nearly forgotten, these tracks capture a period of artistic experimentation that Reid is only now ready to share. At first listen, the second single, “Piece of the Action,” hits with a primal energy that feels both timeless and immediate.
“I’ve inhabited a few different musical guises,” Reid explains, reflecting on the evolution that led to this sound. “I started off with a cheap acoustic guitar, then found myself in a garage band with a Silvertone electric guitar and a tiny amp. Then it was back to being acoustic solo but with a better guitar, then back into a pop-rock band with a better electric guitar and bigger amp. When that project dissolved, I thought I’d get back to being a solo act, but with a backup band. The Unreasonables weren’t intentionally going for raw and primal; we wanted to be more polished but couldn’t pull it off. So it was raw and primal… and in retrospect that was who we were and it probably sounds a whole lot better now than if we had been polished. To this day, I like a little grit in my songs.”
The story of The Unreasonables begins in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when Reid and a rotating cast of Houston musicians recorded a double album that never saw the light of day. “These songs were recorded over a period of four years with an ever-changing cast of Unreasonables,” he says. “The last six songs on the album… were actually recorded after the final phase of Unreasonables had officially broken up. I was planning on splitting Houston for Los Angeles, but gathered up the Unreasonables for those last sessions. In L.A. I half-heartedly shopped the songs around to a few record labels, but got no nibbles. I, myself, wasn’t completely sold on them, or me. I knew they were pretty lo-fi, and figured I could do better.”
For decades, the recordings stayed buried—until Reid’s old bandmates nudged him to revisit the material. “It was only decades later when a couple of old bandmates were bugging me to do something with the material. I finally relented, had the bulky, musty tapes converted to digital files, and dragged them into my home studio expecting the worst. I was pleasantly surprised. Hey, we weren’t as terrible as I thought. Indeed, what I had categorized back in the day as a bit too rough turned out to be just rough enough.”
Bringing the album to life wasn’t about overproduction. Reid emphasizes the organic nature of the release. “Yeah, depending on song it’s 90-100 percent original. I had always wanted a keyboard player in the band. I found a guy in Los Angeles to add some tasty bits to a couple of songs. And I also added some background harmonies here and there. On a few songs, I turned to AI to clean up the noise behind a vocal or guitar track. In the mixing phase I tried to keep the project organic. There’s minimal reverb or any other effects on there. I didn’t go for a big drum sound. Zero auto-tune. I really wanted what we sounded like in real time. It is what it was.”
The lead guitar work on “Piece of the Action” defines the track’s energy. Rick Poss, whose playing spans blues, rock, country, and pop, was the collaborator Reid says he immediately recognized as a perfect match. “I knew about a minute after I saw and heard him I wanted him recording with me. I think his style goes exquisitely with my songs. So yeah, it was a joy and privilege to work with Rick.” The rest of The Unreasonables roster also went on to impressive ventures—Fred Drake in Joshua Tree, Steven Beasley with multiple albums, Billy Block founding The Western Beat in Nashville, and Jack Saunders continuing his Houston studio work. “All of my players were really good, a lot better than I deserved probably,” Reid admits.
Thematically, The Unreasonables marks a departure from Reid’s usual philosophical and political explorations. Instead, the album embraces the ups and downs of romantic love, lust, and raw human emotion. “In a sense it was freeing. Not that I could escape the crazy stuff going on right now that could be the prelude to cataclysm. But yeah, it was fun re-inhabiting those more innocent and clueless days. I cringe a bit at some of the lyrics, but they were earnest. So I still stand behind them.”
There’s a sense of nostalgia that permeates the record, yet Reid is careful not to romanticize the past. “There are so many ‘audiences’ these days, surely somebody would dig it. There certainly are still a lot of people listening to music from that era. I’m not holding my breath, but it seems possible that some might find this collection kinda fun.” His reflections on artistic identity are candid: “That’s a quandary, actually. Everyone wants to be safely within a box these days. I just write songs, and have a certain type of vocal delivery. I leave it up to my players to play what they want to play. Then it’s anyone guess as to what ‘genre’ it is. Pop? Country? Folk? Rock? Americana? I have no idea. Where does one end and the other begin?”
Even in revisiting these decades-old recordings, Reid found moments of personal growth. “This phase was me learning and experimenting and growing as a songwriter, singer, and player. It was interesting for me to assess that effort from the long lens. Piece of the Action is fully invested in exploring those fleeting moments when romance, or at least lust, arises in possibility, if not probability. The setting is a party, and the focus is a figure in ‘the corner.’ A ‘transaction of love’ is the goal for the protagonist, and apparently agreed upon by his interest. So the songwriting is pretty solid, I would judge from my modern sensibilities. The musical track is a winner I think. The rhythm section and guitars do the hard work of getting them together. My vocals through the entire album are, obviously to me at least, searching for a grounding. I think I hit the sweet spot occasionally, including on this song.” He calls the process “healing,” a reclamation of a project that was never meant to be lost.
The spirit of rock itself is another recurring theme. Reid observes that modern rock has shifted, often favoring polish over originality. “The very term ‘rock’ has so many different meanings for different people. But to me the soul and spirit of rock and roll involves beat, groove, rhythm… an egalitarian musical framework so that just about anyone can take a shot at it, and a certain edgy attitude of flaunting polite and conformist society in some way. At times certain acts veer into the realm of too-polished, too-perfect, too-contrived, too-formulaic… I could have handed these songs over to a master engineer/producer and they might have come out sounding like any other of the big, successful acts of today. That would have been more aurally impressive perhaps, but it wouldn’t have been the Unreasonables. If I would lament one thing that has been largely lost, I would say originality.”
Reid’s reflections are tempered with the perspective of decades in the industry. He compares past and present music landscapes: “Back then, you had to go to a professional studio to record, and you had to have major label and major radio support to break through. Nowadays anyone can record at home and release an album for the cost of what the Unreasonables paid for an hour of studio time. The downside is that there are ten thousand new songs added to Spotify every day. Cutting through the cacophony remains all but impossible except for those who have very large pockets behind them. So I don’t really have any hopes for it. I’m thrilled that some people, including young listeners, are liking it. That’s good enough for me. I already consider this release a success. I long ago realized I missed my scene. And I take full responsibility for it. But, you know what? I don’t care. Who knows what ‘music industry’ horrors I dodged? And I’m plenty happy with the pathway and journey that did unfurl. I became a different person that might have never emerged if the Unreasonables had hit big.”
Ultimately, The Unreasonables is a celebration of imperfection, rediscovery, and the enduring power of rock music. With its raw guitars, earnest lyrics, and decades-old soul, the album doesn’t just revisit a moment in time—it reclaims it. For listeners willing to embrace the rough edges and fleeting glimmers of romance, it’s a reminder that rock’s heart beats strongest when it’s imperfect, passionate, and unapologetically human.
Featured Images: Artist Supplied
