J Roddy Walston and the Business are in the business of making rock and roll that sounds like an old, soaked booze rag — moldy, lived-in, and redolent of transgressions you'd rather not name. Exile-era Stones and Teenage Head-era Flamin' Groovies are likely two albums in Walston's all-time permanent rotation, and the gamey phlegm-rattle of New Orleans belters like Dr. John has worked its way nicely into his throat, which gives his blue-collar, blue-balls, blues-rock some convincingly visceral, swampy heft. Walston has also borrowed Dr. John's Fats Waller-style stride piano and his wry, winking way with phrasing. The sheer sound of it is pitch-perfect, but these guys need a few more years of hard touring to complement their hard living before they acquire their own savor. Like one of those bar rags, they will likely only grow funkier with time.