The World’s Best American Band. 
The bold statement from Louisville’s White Reaper is not only the title of their new album, but also the band’s credo. 
“Because we are the best,” says guitarist/vocalist Tony Esposito. “Just like Muhammad Ali was the greatest, you gotta say it out loud for people to believe it." 
And with that mentality the band hit the studio with close friend and producer Kevin Ratterman (My Morning Jacket, Young Widows) and made a good ol' fashioned in-your-face rock ’n’ roll record.
“We didn’t make this record or start this band because we wanted to come across in a single, certain way," says Esposito. “We just make records that we'd want to hear. We started doing this because it's fun as hell, just as much now as it was when we were 14."
Boasting textured melodies, layered guitars and more seasoned lyrics, The World’s Best American Band finds the quartet busting out of the basement sound established on their previous full length (2015’s White Reaper Does It Again) and setting their sights on the arena. 
Garnished with glimpses of the golden age of rock and roll, TWBAB is loaded with guitars that scream and gigantic drums in lockstep rhythm, each song packing its own massive, but none the less unique, punch. Lead single “Judy French” struts like a runway model raised on Heavy Metal Parking Lot, while midway point “The Stack” pairs a classic rock shimmy with a flair for glam.
The Kentucky boys eagerly await hitting the road in 2017. Armed with a record that celebrates rock in all of its glory, they are poised to satisfy crowds whether they are packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the "standing room only" pit or kicking back in the cheap seats. 
“Come to the show, have a drink, have fun,” laughs Esposito. “But be nice to everybody, cause you're gonna get real close."

(Shredding. Speaking. Writing. Thinking. Reading.)
I straddle the fence between two mindsets –
1. The world is completely fucked and, 2. The universe is inside you. I have probably spent too much time being pissed off and upset with humanity; how far we’ve let ourselves go. Just another
millennial guy with large hair trying in earnest to take on the weight of the world; taking passionate and hypercritical walks down city blocks, somehow totally aware and above the illusion, overflowing
with informed negativity to destroy the illusion and only feeding it.
Besides a couple of years of emotional and mental turmoil, loss, confusion, breakdown and internal growth what did all of that ever
get me? Well, it gave me this record called “HEAVY META” and it is the first few findings from my guerilla treasure hunt for bullshit, both outside and within. Ethos meets pathos. There is nothing about reading this bio that will achieve its only goal - to further
acquaint you with the music. I suggest you put the phone down, come to a show and make up your own mind. You work hard, or don’t work at all; but the search for purpose and meaning is real and the need to relate, release and rage is just as visceral. And though I can’t control what you think, maybe, JUST MAYBE, I can
spark some emotion that might unite us in tacit understanding through the language of music – where the words “fuck yeah” say everything. Just the existence of a biography in someway makes it seem like my life is more interesting than your life - far from the truth. I am more interested in YOU, and how we connect that to the WE; that is the reason why I put this stuff out there.
These songs - whether they’re about the time I saw a mother’s cigarette ash falling onto her child’s head in a stroller, or the wars we start within ourselves or, the domestication of punks - they immortalize images and moments in this singular existence that seem to hold a more universal truth than what is taken at face
value. And for all this I have nothing but gratitude for the process that lead me to create this album - the 4,929,647 album of all time.