A Kansas City Roots Rock Veteran Delivers His Most Playful, Wink-and-Wisdom Single Yet With Hypnotic Blues Grooves, Cheeky Humor, and an Unforgettable Chant That’ll Stay in Your Head All Weekend Allen Brooks Reminds Us That Sometimes the Best Medicine Is a Laid-Back Groove and Good Company.
Some songs announce themselves with grand ambition and sweeping statements about the human condition. And then there are songs that simply arrive at the party already grinning, cooler in hand, ready to make sure everyone’s having a good time. Allen Brooks lands squarely in that second camp with his brand-new single, “Don’t Forget The Weed,” a release that trades solemnity for swagger and delivers one of the most infectiously good-natured tracks to roll out of Kansas City, Missouri in recent memory.
Brooks, a U.S. Navy veteran turned nationally touring musician and digital filmmaker, has spent decades earning his stripes on stages alongside luminaries like Steppenwolf, Lou Gramm, Molly Hatchet, and The Kentucky Headhunters. At 63, he could be resting comfortably on that legacy. Instead, he’s doing what great artists do: following the muse wherever it leads, even when it leads straight down Highway 49 toward the local dispensary. As Brooks himself puts it: “This is a one off song that I wrote just for fun and I really hope it resonates with my weed smoking friends in Missouri and everywhere beyond.” That spirit of unguarded, unpretentious fun radiates from every measure of the track.
“Don’t Forget The Weed” plants its flag in the fertile soil of roots rock and blues, genres that have always made room for storytelling with a wink. Built around a punchy, mid-tempo groove that nods and chugs with irresistible momentum, the song channels the kind of organic musicality that Brooks has refined across a career spanning multiple bands and decades of live performance, including stints with Fiancé, Roxx Gang, Mojo Gurus, The Blessed Virgin Larry, and Satisfaction, his celebrated Rolling Stones tribute outfit. The rhythm section here is nothing short of commanding, with Mariano Vega‘s drums locking in with a tightness that keeps the track bouncing forward without ever breaking a sweat. Allen Brooks himself handles bass, guitar, and vocals, weaving together the song’s narrative thread with the ease of a seasoned road warrior who’s told a thousand stories from the stage and knows exactly how to land the punchline.
The lyrical premise is deceptively simple: a group of friends, a big weekend ahead, a well-stocked cooler, and the comedic near-disaster of almost forgetting the most important party favor of all. It’s a scenario that requires zero explanation to anyone who has ever organized a road trip with a rowdy crew, and Brooks mines it for every drop of communal humor it holds. The opening call-and-response chant spelling out “R-E-L-E-A-F” as a homophone for “relief” is the kind of hook that earns its place in the listener’s head within seconds and refuses to vacate. It’s clever without being smug, playful without being juvenile, and it sets the tone for everything that follows: a track that is having the time of its life and inviting you along for the ride.
Where the song really distinguishes itself, though, is in the way it captures the texture of a genuine collective experience. The group shouts that punctuate the chorus aren’t simply a production technique; they feel like actual voices piling on, friends yelling over each other in that chaotic, joyful way that only happens when everyone is locked into the same wavelength. The lyrical geography is grounded and specific, rooted in real Missouri roads and real destinations, which gives the song a lived-in authenticity that generic party anthems often lack. This isn’t a corporate approximation of a good time. It’s the real thing.
Matias Pecorale‘s saxophone adds a soulful, slightly ragged edge that elevates the track beyond straight-ahead rock territory. The saxophone solo arrives at exactly the right moment, functioning as a musical exhale between verses, a chance for the groove to breathe and expand before the narrative picks back up. It’s a choice that speaks to Brooks’s instinct for arrangement, his understanding that the spaces between the notes matter as much as the notes themselves.
Then there is the Circus ringmaster interlude, voiced with theatrical gusto by Axel Klauser, which arrives mid-song and shifts the track into something altogether more delightfully surreal. The interlude’s language is ornate and wonderfully absurd, stacking up fanciful epithets and invitations into a kind of carnivalesque celebration of the song’s central subject. It transforms what could have been a straightforward novelty track into something with genuine dramatic architecture, a song that has an actual second act with its own momentum and energy. The moment is both laugh-out-loud funny and oddly poetic, the kind of creative left turn that marks a songwriter who isn’t content to simply deliver the expected.
The track’s closing sentiment, a riff on the old proverb about friendship and loyalty, reframes the entire song in a surprisingly warm light. What began as comic territory ends as something almost sentimental, a reminder that the rituals of friendship, the shared coolers and spontaneous road trips and group shouts into the open air, are among the things that make ordinary life feel worth celebrating. It’s a quiet masterstroke buried inside an otherwise raucous three minutes, and it lingers after the track fades.
Beyond the music, Allen Brooks remains one of the more genuinely fascinating figures in the independent American music landscape. Under his creative identity B.A. Brooks, he pioneered the use of online media in documentary filmmaking, including the prescient 2008 project “The Decline And Fall Of America,” and has continued developing AI-enhanced visual work that has garnered international festival recognition. His recent catalog spans original material such as “Comin’ Home,” “Wars Waged By Man,” “Jackalope Jack,” “Tragically Twisted,” and “Raymond Redd,” alongside bold reimaginings of classics including a tribute to Ozzy Osbourne with “Changes” by Black Sabbath and a cover of BTO‘s “Blue Moanin’.” An upcoming interpretation of David Bowie‘s “Heroes” further signals an artist with an insatiable appetite for the breadth of American and classic rock heritage. The fire, as he says, is very much still burning.
“Don’t Forget The Weed” is, on its surface, a song about a weekend errand. But it’s also a small masterpiece of tone, an object lesson in how to be funny without being cheap, how to be loose without being sloppy, and how to write a hook that earns every single listen. Allen Brooks knows exactly what he’s made here and wears that knowledge lightly, which is perhaps the greatest trick of all.
“Don’t Forget The Weed” is now available across all of the major streaming platforms including Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music, Deezer and Amazon Music. For updates, promotional content, or to follow the journey, visit the official website.
OFFICIAL LINKS:
Website: www.allenbroks.net
