Like a car that’s broken down on the side of a highway under a blistering desert sun, The Roaming Soldiers make the kind of music that demands some sweat and grit to get going. Guitars screech and groan like a machine that desperately needs oil; rhythms buck and start before jolting forward precariously. It’s swampy, soulful Southern rock that’s made for beer drinking and bad decisions. On Shot Gun, dual guitars rear up like a double-headed dragon, scorching everything around them while cymbals shimmy in the background like a rattlesnake ready to pounce. Healing Machine is a lurching, angular groove that has whiffs of Black Crowes’ Remedy. Anyone who’s ever been kicked in the teeth by life will find plenty of commiseration in the bitter blues jam Last Cards. If howling and licking your wounds isn’t your thing, skip to Strange for a Zeppelin-esque guitar lashing. Pain’s no picnic, but The Roaming Soldiers make it hurt so good.