New York Route 89 ain't much; it twists and winds its way like so many rural thoroughfares through the Great Lakes region. There's scenery to be seen (when there's daylight), all sorts of critters to crush, assholes and their hi-beams coming at you, patches of horseshit...just another black ribbon across the American landscape.

But last night New York Route 89 was the red carpet that Bop Shop Tom Kohn, two lovely ladies, and me took to rock 'n' roll Shangri-la: The Blasters were playing at Castaways in Ithaca. The Blasters are one of the best rock 'n' roll bands in the world -- I've felt this way for a while. And where I may be a star-struck fan (I wore a Blasters T-shirt and listened to the band the whole way down), all you had to do was see the show last night.

This band is so unbelievably solid in its rhythmic attack. Phil Alvin is easily the most soulful white singer you'll ever hear. He had the balls to take on James Brown's "Please, Please, Please." And the band's storied originals --- "Marie, Marie," "Border Radio," "Red Rose," "Long White Cadillac," Trouble Bound," and so on --- hold up beautifully when slid into the rock pantheon each song emulates. The rhythm section of bassist John Bazz and drummer Bill Bateman (who did a stint in The Cramps) are incredibly solid and direct --- no fluff, no frills, no fills --- just a solid groove to get those of us that have difficulty moving, moving. The one new member to the group, guitarist Keith Wyatt, was a little wordier on the guitar than founder Dave Alvin, and was full of all sorts of fret-board flash tricks. But it suited the music fine.

It wasn't a huge crowd, but everyone got a big bang for their buck. C'mon: The Blasters. In Ithaca. We left sweaty, happy, drunk, and spent the whole way back home laughing on Route 89 as if we'd gotten away with something.