Take Highway 90 south, past Lafayette, past Broussard, and you’ll find New Iberia. In between the highway gas stations / casinos you’ll notice that the grass may start looking a little taller, a little greener. This is a place where the street names are simple and familiar. Where Main meets Center and the traffic lights sway in the welcome summer wind. Just before 5 o’clock, the streets are bare except for the occasional truck moving to the next job on the outskirts of town. There’s a blue-collar sensibility as the workday ends, the anticipation of the tick of the clock that means it’s time to go home. The night brings expectation, and through the night air it’s possible to hear the music starting, the band warming up, the laughter of a party just before the music begins and the crowd gets to its feet. This is the landscape of Ace Boone. They’re a long time coming in this sleepy Southern setting, where zydeco and Cajun music rule and rock picks up whatever scraps it can find. Ace Boone is looking to switch the order of things a bit. There are no accordions or washboards here. Just guitars, drums, and the heart of the blues and rock when they combine. The way music used to be, before million dollar music videos and make-up artists. It ain’t about being pretty. This is rock stripped bare for all to see and hear. To listen to Ace Boone is to remember loneliness, heartbreak, love, lust, and the night you partied to forget about all of them. Their sound is just as potent from your grandfather’s Victrola as from the ear buds of a new iPod. These are four childhood friends who just want you to let loose. Ace Boone comes from the ashes of still burning cigarettes and the dusty memories of old honky tonks, from the broken beer bottles and fuzzy guitars of your daddy’s favorite dance hall. Young, old, and weary, all are welcome here. And when you come out, grab a cold one and pull up a chair. Don’t get too comfortable, though. You won’t be sitting long.