Bad-ass name, bad-ass cover art, and bad-ass Bristol stoner sleaze that ought to make Turbowolf the new underground “it” band. Their self-titled full-length debut follows a 4-song EP released last year (three quarters of which appears on this one), and it’s a madcap attack of pure rock fury that’s damn near impossible to pin down. Turbowolf is at once exceptionally heavy and catchy, which is a deadly combination when the majority of it is delivered in two-and-a-half minute spurts, but the crux of this crushing crusade lies in its nasty energy, a sweat bomb of ultra-hip, greasy electricity. Because of songs like “Ancient Snake,” “Bag O’ Bones,” and “A Rose for the Crows,” and the fact that singer Chris Georgiadis’ acerbic snarl will remind you of Chad Cherry, Turbowolf has a tendency to present itself as The Last Vegas leading Kyuss on a midnight run through burnt down planetariums, but then you hear “Seven Severed Heads,” “Son (Sun),” and “All the Trees” and you don’t know what the hell to think. But that’s the beauty of Turbowolf, such as it is, and at the end of the day they’re the kind of living thing Motörhead has been known to take on tour in order to expose (and feed off of) their rag n’ roll attitude.
Check out the video for “A Rose for the Crows” from Turbowolf!
Jeremy Irons & The Ratgang Malibus Bloom
Transubstans Records
It might be a little tough to get by the name, but once you accept the fact that Jeremy Irons & The Ratgang Malibus isn’t the title of a long lost Hardy Boys mystery novel in which sleuthing teenage brothers Frank and Joe Hardy spoil an international spy ring led by an award-winning British actor and his band of no-good, rich, white skaters from the coast, and that they are indeed a loose n’ groovy psych-rock band from Stockholm, Sweden, then things suddenly become mystically boss. Bloom, their second album and first on label Transubstans after self-releasing their 2007 debut Elefanta, is an incredibly soulful jam that focuses the majority of its attention on delivering its hazy, swirling melodies in a clear and present manner instead of burying them behind layers of fuzz and mud like most acid trippers are apt to do; songs like the organ-fried clock-melters “Skin Deep” and “IAOA” are propelled by an earthy, bluesy force, “Tales of the Future” and “Cosmo Tropic” require some serious hip shakes before that third eye of yours will open, and the Zeppelin-esque “Fernando” might one day replace “Stairway to Heaven” as the last song at Swedish proms. But where JI&TRM really excel is, believe it or not, in their ability to channel the amplified love of Jeff Buckley, as “Elefanta,” “Golden Hours,” and the title track each swell with an unnervingly delicate beauty reminiscent of the late musician’s sound, elevating Bloom beyond a trippy rock n’ roll record into something much more magical. Highly recommended.
They really haven’t made many bands like The Black Angels since the 60s, have they? Back when they chased white rabbits, drank electric kool-aid, and said no to Nam, when all sorts of weird, enlightening, conscious-raising shit went down. Unfortunately, being the spring chicken that I am, I’ve had to rely on the likes of Wolfe, Kesey, and HST to tell me about it, and have plugged into the awesome nonsense of, say, Father Yod or Roky Erickson in order to experience it for myself as best I can. LSD ain’t really en vogue anymore, and John Sinclair’s been free for years, but that hasn’t stopped The Black Angels from droppin’ their third-eye acid fuzz on us like a brand new drug. My mind’s been movin’ like a lava lamp ever since their 2006 debut, Passover, happily trippin’ on the psychedelic, blood-soaked, oft-political, incense and peppermint drone. The Austin band’s latest album, Phosphene Dream, while familiarly drenched in that Grace-Slick-serving-sermon-at-midnight-mass mysticism, is the most rockin’ Black Angels album to date, meaning some of the songs got an unfamiliar, hip swagger to them, like they’re shooting outta the grooves of a cracked 45″ on a Saturday night. A pleasant revelation, natch, one that walks in time with their freak n’ freedom revolution. You ought to be joined up by now.
Check out the video for “Telephone” from Phosphene Dream!
Turbowolf
Jeremy Irons & The Ratgang Malibus
The Black Angels