The following were purchased at Armageddon Shop, Providence, RI.
Wooden Shjips: “Loose Lips” b/w “Start to Dreaming” – 2007 – Sub Pop:
Hometown: San Francisco (Duh)
The first time I spun this on my turntable I had a heart attack, scrambled for the closest piece of paper in my realm (a brown paper bag), and jotted down the following disjointed, superfluous information:
All I can ever hope for when first putting on a record…exquisite psychedelia…what pedals do these guys have and where can I purchase them?…if the hippies had made music this raw and honest then maybe we would’ve accomplished some real Ken Kesey mind expansion, “on the bus” type shit…my mouth is both smiling and gaping…I can feel my outlook on music changing as we speak…and that’s the most incredible sort of music to stumble upon…the tightness of the bass and drums, their ability in keeping such a strong and catchy rhythm, allows the fuzzed out, pedaled-out electric guitars to blast to different levels and energies, to truly experiment into a distorted madness, smashing all available synapses until they collapse into the oblivion of Wooden Shjips’ kaleidoscope frenzy.
Wooden Shjips sound exactly like Boston cult-heroes Cul de Sac, sorta like a sinister version of The Doors, and slightly like kraut-rock super-stars Neu. Take these three bands, thrown them together in an underwater cavern, and grind them in a Velvet Underground “Sister Ray” whirlpool blender, and what do you get? That’s right: Wooden Shjips, eating out yo Momma’s pussy.
Grade: A+ = Blew my mind in a grey cloud of sonic boom. My brain matter is on fire.
Sonic Chicken 4: “Surf on a Plane” b/w “Crushed” – Trouble in Mind (Records) – Sept 2009
Hometown: Perpignan, France
Sonically like crusty Velvet Underground pop, in spirit like The Rolling Stones “Exile on Main Street” era of nasty swamp-rock. Or: a French ramshackle garage lo-fi rock crew that rolls right over 95% of your favorite blogger’s chill-wave butt-surprises with an intense sense of fun and lack of pretension that may scare you just enough into buying Nuggets Vol. 1.
Grade: B+ = Nothing ground-breaking, besides that ram sticking a boner into your temple. Keeps that cookie from a-crumblin’!