A Review of Bon Boy – ‘Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man’
- I'm Not From London
- 6 days ago
- 2 min read
Bon Boy doesn’t play by the rules… His latest release, ‘Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man’, is a snarling, swaggering ode to chaos — a garage rock barnburner drenched in sweat, beer, and reckless joy. The alter ego of multi-instrumentalist Steve Stenholt, Bon Boy thrives in unpredictability, and this track embodies his messy brilliance with unfiltered energy.
At first listen, ‘Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man’ might strike as a straightforward cover of the Bob Seger classic, but under Bon Boy’s hand it becomes something altogether different: a riotous fusion of punk grit and garage rock rawness. Stripped of polish, the dry mix makes it sound like a forgotten 7-inch pulled from a jukebox in a grimy Midwestern dive bar. The guitars lurch forward with jagged edges, the rhythm section drives with manic intensity, and Bon Boy’s vocals straddle the line between snarled defiance and unrestrained celebration. It’s a sound that carries echoes of Viagra Boys, The Hives, The Replacements, and even the frenetic unpredictability of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard.
Part of the track’s charm is its sense of excess. Bon Boy freely admits the recording process was fuelled by Coors Light — or as he jokes, “silver bullets.” He says: “I love Bob Seger. I love the Silver Bullet Band. And I love drinking silver bullets. This cover and video bring all those loves together.” The accompanying video, directed by Afshin Hatami, captures this chaotic energy perfectly, filmed guerrilla-style across Los Angeles with no permits, too much beer, and a sense of debauchery that left Bon Boy himself confessing: “My body will never recover.”
Born in Wisconsin, bred in Chicago, reborn in New York and now roasting in Arizona’s desert heat, Bon Boy’s geographical journey mirrors his sonic one: restless, unpredictable, unbothered by convention. Recorded in Tucson and later revitalised in Los Angeles with producer Justin Ripley, the track’s final mix by Mike Novak in Chicago adds another layer of authenticity — it sounds lived-in, roughened, and alive.
‘Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man’ is more than just a cover. It’s a manifesto of sorts — a reminder that rock should be dangerous, sweaty, and gloriously imperfect. In a world obsessed with polish, Bon Boy hands you a can of beer, cranks up the volume, and dares you to party like the walls are caving in.