Monthly Archives: April 2015

The Kingbees: The Kingbees

Kingbees_KingbeesThe Kingbees’ debut still has its sting thirty-five years later

It’s hard to believe that at thirty-five, this album is nearly a decade older than was rockabilly itself in 1980. The Kingbees emerged in the late ‘70s, alongside the Blasters, Stray Cats, Pole Cats and others, and though primarily known for only this one album (their follow-up, The Big Rock, was stranded by their label’s bankruptcy), it’s among the very best of the 1980s rockabilly revival. The Kingbees laid down a solid backbeat, but weren’t afraid to move beyond the sound of vintage microphones, standup bass and slapback echo. Even better, they had great songs, guitar riffs that crossed classic tone with modern recording sonics, a fiery rhythm section (check out the bass and drum solos on “Everybody’s Gone”) and a terrific vocalist in lead bee, Jamie James.

Produced in the group’s native Los Angeles, the album initially failed to stir commercial interest, but in a page from the book of 1950s record promotion, the band gained a second wind through the regional airplay on Detroit’s WWWW and WRIF. “My Mistake” and “Shake Bop” both charted, and the band’s club performances led some to think they were local. The group’s second album garnered a cameo in The Idolmaker and an appearance on American Bandstand, but that was basically it. The group and their label both disbaned, leaving behind a small but impressive collection of recordings. The albums have been reissued as a two–fer, but this remastered anniversary reissue sweetens the debut’s ten tracks with the demos that landed the band a contract, live tracks from a 1980 Detroit show, and a 12-page booklet featuring period photos and new liner notes from Jamie James.

The demos show how fully realized the band’s sound was before they signed with a label; even more impressively, the subsequent studio versions of “My Mistake,” “Man Made for Love” and “Ting a Ling” take the performances up another notch. The latter, a cover of the Clovers’ 1952 doo-wop hit, pairs with an inspired reworking of Don Gibson’s “Sweet Sweet Girl to Me” to show just how thoroughly the group knew what it had to offer. The latter kicks off the album, hotting up Warren Smith’s Sun-era cover in the same way Smith transformed Gibson’s original into rock ‘n’ roll. The live tracks show the trio to be a tight unit with plenty of spark, and the band’s simple, percussive covers of “Not Fade Away” and “Bo Diddley” speak to James’ roots rock inspirations; the former shines with the sheer joy of singing a Buddy Holly song, the latter gives all three players a chance to really lean on the Bo Diddley beat.

James’ originals are superb and sound fresh as he sings about girls, lust, romance, broken hearts and rock ‘n’ roll. “No Respect” builds from a slinky bass line and snappy snare drum to James’ lead guitar, and after a short verse, a sharp solo; Rex Roberts really grabs your attention with his drumming on both “My Mistake” and “Shake-Bop.” There’s a pop-punk edge to the faster numbers, but the rockabilly beat and James’ glorious ‘57 Fender Strat absorb, rather than fetishize the ‘50s roots. Cross-pollinated with the energy of ‘80s power-pop and new wave, the Kingbees forged a rock ‘n’ roll sound that’s proven quite timeless. Omnivore’s reissue features a master by Gavin Lurssen and Reuben Cohen, and includes a 12-page booklet highlighted by period photos and liner notes from Jamie James. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

The Kingbees’ Facebook Page

Jimbo Mathus: Blue Healer

JimboMathus_BlueHealerA head-turning arc through the Southern musical landscape

From the blistering opener, the original “Shoot Out the Lights,” it’s clear that Jimbo Mathus will be laying on hands that have been sanctified by the spirits of all manner of Southern music. With the prodding of Bronson Tew’s drums and and Eric “Roscoe” Ambel’s guitar, Mathus confesses that he’s the sort of person that trouble seems to find. It’s the start of a loosely structured concept album that sees Mathus’ protagonist counting up his sins, seeking the healing powers of the mystical title character, and questioning whether redemption can really even be had.

The story begins with the narrator cocooned in his troubles, but with “Ready to Run,” he emerges into a Springsteen-styled catharsis of urgency, ambition and passion. He aims to vanquish his doubts of redemption, but the struggle isn’t resolved in a simple, linear narrative. His thoughts turn inward with the mystical ponderings of “Coyote” and “Bootheel Witch,” and resurface to find wanton ways still at odds with a commitment to change. “Waiting for the Other Shoe to Fall” documents Saturday night’s revelry, and the closing “Love and Affection” provides Sunday morning’s appeal for forgiveness. In between, “Save It For the Highway” depicts the ongoing struggle between dark and light, and suggests the cycle may have no end.

There are numerous musical threads woven into this album, often within a single piece. The lyrics, guitars and Tex-Mex sounds of “Mama Please” echo David Allen Coe, Merle Haggard and Doug Sahm. The invocation of “Blue Healer” suggests the hoodoo of Dr. John and the dark, melodrama of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. There’s neo-psych guitar, an acoustic love song, spiritual New Orleans R&B, and even a great, noisy jam playing out “Bootheel Witch.”. This is music made by someone steeped in Southern styles; someone whose education was as much atmosphere as lesson plan. The fluency with which Mathus navigates his influences will come as no surprise to his fans, but even they may be floored by how fluidly it all comes together. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

Jimbo Mathus’ Home Page

The Rubinoos: 45

Rubinoos_45Ageless pop music

It’s spooky how good the Rubinoos sound in their 45th year as a band. Jon Rubin’s lead vocals are still sweetly youthful, songwriter Tommy Dunbar continues to mine a seemingly inexhaustible supply of melodies, and the quartet’s harmonies are as tight as ever. The current line-up features long-time bassist Al Chan and original drummer Donn Spindt, and are nearly indistinguishable from the group that was featured in the pages of Tiger Beat magazine.

None of which should suggest that the Rubinoos are frozen in the amber of 1977. Dunbar’s songwriting has widened over the years, both in the musical influences he incorporates and the themes he explores. There’s jazz in the guitar of “Graveyard Shift,” a soulful melody (and a touch of electric sitar!) in “What More Can You Ask of a Friend,” and “Does Suzie Like Boys” updates the standard love song with a modern day consideration. Gene Pitney’s “Town Without Pity” provides the atmosphere for the dark instrumental “Kangaroo Court,” and the group rocks out for “Countdown to Love.”

Still, there’s plenty of pure pop, including Al Chan’s tender vocal on “You Are Here” and an a cappella cover of Lou Christie’s “Rhapsody in the Rain.” The latter is highlighted by Jon Rubin’s falsetto and a bass vocal from The Mighty Echoes’ Charlie Davis. The band’s doo-wop and garage roots cross paths in “I Love Louie Louie,” and Dunbar’s affinity for the Beatles, by way of Erie, PA’s Wonders, is heard in his 12-string laden original “That Thing You Do.” Originally pitched for the film, the demo (sung by Dunbar and Chan) has been spruced up with Donn Spindt’s drums.

The album closes with the optimistic “All It Takes” and a cover of Radio Days’ “She’s Driving Me Crazy.” Both tunes were previously released on a split 7”, but are a valuable addition for the stylus-impaired. The album proves that youthfulness is a state of mind, rather than a physical age, as the charms of the Rubinoos’ teenage years are undimmed. Since returning to the studio for 1998’s Paleophonic, the group’s waxed covers, children’s songs and more, but forty-five years on, they still reach back to their early years with ease. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

The Rubinoos’ Home Page

Curtis Knight & The Squires: You Can’t Use My Name – The RSVP/PPX Sessions

CurtisKnightAndTheSquires_YouCan'tUseMyNameJimi Hendrix’s early recordings as an R&B sideman

Before he was Jimi, he was Jimmy; and before his name was above the title, he was a sideman, playing guitar for the Isley Brothers, Don Covay, Little Richard and others. In late 1965 and early 1966 (and again for a jam session in 1967), Hendrix performed and recorded with Harlem R&B singer Curtis Knight, and through Knight met and signed with manager Ed Chalpin. That contract, which became entangled with a subsequent 1966 contract with Chas Chandler, resulted in these early recordings being misrepresented and shoddily released (and re-released) in the wake of Hendrix’s solo success. During his lifetime, Hendrix was offended that these recordings were passed off as his own artistic creations, but in retrospect they provide a valuable look at his climb up the professional ladder to stardom.

Four of these tracks were released in 1966 as singles on the RSVP label. The first, “How Would You Feel,” riffs on Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone,” with new lyrics that invoke issues of racism and the on-going struggle for equality. The second single, instrumentals “Hornet’s Nest” and “Knock Yourself Out,” represents Hendrix’s first commercial release as a songwriter. Neither single made any commercial, chart nor critical impact at the time, and the rest of the tracks remained in the vault until Hendrix’s fame blew up in 1967. At that point Chalpin began issuing albums that seemed to intentionally obscure the material’s provenance, giving Hendrix credit over Knight, and using cover photos that post-dated the sessions by two years. This continued off and on for decades, until the family-run Experience Hendrix organization finally acquired control in 2003.

Remixed by Hendrix engineer Eddie Kramer to reflect the sound of the times in which they were recorded, and presented accurately with Hendrix as a sideman, these tracks become an essential element of the Hendrix legacy. Stripping away the coattail hucksterism of earlier releases, this volume shows a side of Hendrix’s guitar playing that would soon be overshadowed by his on-going invention. Knight is an adequate vocalist and the material is bouncy, if not particularly inspiring, and as a sideman, there was only so much Hendrix could do to add juice. Knight gets originality points for working the audience through the Jerk, Bo Diddley, Mashed Potato and Monkey on “Simon Says,” as well as for setting the classic nonsense poem “One Bright Day in the Middle of the Night” to a stomping Bo Diddley beat on “Strange Things.”

As a backing player in an R&B band, Hendrix was limited in what and where he could play, but he’s still Hendrix, and you can’t help but listen as he vamps rhythm chords, chicken picks or plays with a springy Ike Turner-styled tone. Hendrix gets numerous opportunities to play lead, and distinguishes himself with concise solos that make the most of a tight spot in someone else’s four-minute song. It’s not the revelatory work of his solo years, but neither is it a journeyman merely filling time. Three of the set’s instrumentals – “No Such Animal,” the hard-driving “Hornet’s Nest,” and the nearly seven-minute unedited version of “Knock Yourself Out (Flying On Instruments)” – provide room for Hendrix to stretch out and show just how good he was as a relatively straight R&B guitarist.

Engineer Eddie Kramer has rescued these tapes from the edits, overdubs and poor mixes of earlier vinyl issues, restoring their vitality and returning them as close to their original state as one could hope for. The drums remain a bit muddy in the background – most likely a product of the original recording- but the bass is fluid and strong, and the guitars and organ have some real sting. With forty studio masters and stage recordings to choose from, this volume promises to be the first of several, which makes the track selection a bit of an overview, and the sequencing a bit of a puzzle. The set features tracks from the late ‘65 and early ‘66 dates, as produced by Ed Chalpin, instrumental sessions produced by Jerry Simon, and a couple of pieces from a 1967 session that was recorded amidst Hendrix’s legal wrangling with Chalpin. The latter includes studio chatter in which Hendrix admonishes Chalpin not to use his name to sell these recordings, and “Gloomy Monday,” which was recorded four days after Hendrix was served with a lawsuit by Chalpin.

The 16-page booklet includes interesting liner notes by John McDermott and numerous photos; what’s missing is track-specific session data that would draw a clearer picture of what’s here, what’s missing, and why the tracks are sequenced as they are. In particular, tracks that were issued as singles are spread throughout the set, which may represent their session order, or may just be the reissue producers’ idea of good musical flow. With the painstaking attention paid to restoring the audio, it would be helpful to know the recording dates, as well as the selection process for this particular sampling from the vault. That said, the truth is in the grooves, and with Ed Chalpin’s machinations stripped away, fans can finally enjoy these recordings as a legitimate part of Hendrix’s path to stardom. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

Jimi Hendrix’s Home Page

Ray Wylie Hubbard: The Ruffian’s Misfortune

RayWylieHubbard_TheRuffiansMisfortuneRough and raw and blue and country and rockin’

Hubbard picks up where he left off with 2012’s The Grifter’s Hymnal, bursting with creative songs that merge country, blues and rock into a seamless experience. Recorded in only a few days, mostly live in the studio, Hubbard came prepared with his songs done and his regular rhythm section (Rick Richards on drums and George Reiff on bass) complemented by the guitars of his son Lucas and Austinite Gabriel Rhodes. The preparation and familiarity clearly turned the players loose, as these songs have the patina of material that had been honed on the road, with deep grooves, rhythm guitars that interlock and leads that play off one another.

The band follows Hubbard with incredible ease as he moves from gritty electric blues to acoustic folk-country. There’s a poet’s sweat in his lyrics, born of life experience rather than academic construction. He calls out Lightnin’ Hopkins and Sticky Fingers-era Rolling Stones on “Hey Mama, My Time Ain’t Long,” and both the Stones and other blues legends turn up regularly throughout the album. “Jessie Mae” was inspired by Mississippi blues legend Jessie Mae Hemphill, and “Mr. Musselwhite’s Blues” sings of the mentoring Musselwhite received from Little Walter and Big Joe Williams. Hubbard also pays tribute with some fine harmonica playing throughout the album.

At 68, it’s not surprising that mortality threads through several of Hubbard’s songs, including the gospel-soul “Barefoot in Heaven” and the redemption-seeking “Stone Blind Horses.” But even with the devil as a toll-taker on the blues highway, Hubbard’s not preoccupied with the hereafter. He illuminates the virtues of badass girls with guitars and recounts his own history of fast times. “Bad on Fords” is sung more slyly than Sammy Hagar’s amped up cover, and the rapid-fire delivery of “Down By The River” (which recalls the earlier “Coricidin Bottle”) leads to some terrific twin guitar leads. Hubbard’s a man who knows what he wants to say, how he wants to say it and how he wants it to sound, and that’s about all you can ask for. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

Ray Wylie Hubbard’s Home Page

Hypercast #5: The Fool Anthology

“The Fool” was written by Lee Hazlewood (though credited to his nom de spouse, Naomi Ford, and with a guitar riff borrowed from Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightnin’“), and first waxed by Sanford Clark in 1956. Since then, the song’s been recorded dozens of times across a surprising range of genres. Here, for your irritainment*, are twenty-eight different recordings, clocking it at over ninety-six oddly hypnotic minutes.

* Thanks to artist Gordon Monahan and his Exotic Trilogy series for inspiration.

Johnny Mathis: Life is a Song Worth Singing – The Complete Thom Bell Sessions

JohnnyMathis_LifeIsASongCompleteThomBellRomantic lead meets Philly legend

Throughout the ‘50s and well into the ‘60s, Johnny Mathis was the answer to the question “Who do you make out to? Sinatra or Mathis?” Mathis’ distinctive voice and long, vibrato-laced notes created a romantic mood that flourished especially well at album length. By the time rock shoved adult contemporary music off of the radio, Mathis had begun to expand his stylistic palette, while still remaining true to his romantic roots. This two-disc set compiles Mathis’ mid-70s  work with Philly soul legend Thom Bell, collecting two full albums (1973’s I’m Coming Home and 1977’s Mathis Is…) alongside eight bonus selections that include mono and stereo singles, unreleased instrumentals and collaborations released elsewhere as album tracks.

It’s not particularly surprising that Mathis fit easily into Bell’s string-laden arrangements, but as the band heats up with deeper bass and horns, Mathis breaks free of his comfort zone.Writing with lyricist Linda Creed for the 1973 release, Bell fashioned material that both catered to and challenged Mathis. Bell kept Mathis in the middle of his vocal range, exploring the singer’s ability to build emotion without relying on high notes. The soft brass of “I’m Coming Home” shines a light on Bell’s fondness for Burt Bacharach, and rose to the top of the Easy Listening chart. But Bell also pushed Mathis, inviting the staccato delivery of “Life is a Song Worth Singing” that adds attitude to the performance. The six minute album version includes terrific instrumental work from Philly International’s house band, MFSB, that was cut from the three-minute single.

In addition to the newly written material, I’m Coming Home includes covers of the Stylistics’ “Stop, Look, Listen (To Your Heart)” and “I’m Stone in Love With You,” with fresh arrangements to suit Mathis and fit the album’s tone.  The latter won over the Soul Train dancers in a 1974 performance that also featured the Bell/Creed original “Foolish.” The first disc’s bonus tracks include the mono edit of “Life is a Song Worth Singing,” the stereo single of “I’m Coming Home,” and previously unreleased instrumental takes of “I’m Stone in Love With You” and “And I Think That’s What I’ll Do.” The latter pair shows off Bell’s deft touch as an arranger and producer, and the house band’s ability to flawlessly nail a song’s mood.

Mathis and Bell reunited in 1977 to record a second album at Seattle’s Kaye-Smith (later Heart’s Bad Animals) studio. Surprisingly, though waxed on the West Coast amid the rising tide of disco, the album picks up where their previous collaboration left off. Bell wrote many of the album’s originals with his nephew LeRoy, and combined Philly and West Coast studio aces and orchestral players to build a sound that’s remarkably free of disco’s tropes. Mathis luxuriates in the long notes of  “Lullaby of Love” and soaring strings of “Heaven Must Have Made You Just For Me.” Bell comes right back with the upbeat “Loving You-Losing You,” and his love of Bacharach-styled bounce is heard in “I’ll Make You Happy.”

Mathis Is… closes with a cover of the Spinners’ “Sweet Love of Mine,” whose faster tempo strengthens the song’s hopefulness. The second disc’s bonus tracks show that these albums weren’t Mathis’ first meeting with Bell’s material, nor his last. Mathis recorded the Stylistics’ “Betcha By Golly Wow” in 1972 and “Break Up to Make Up” in 1973, and “You’re as Right as Rain” in 1975. He re-teamed with Bell in the studio for the 1991 Patti Austin duet “You Brought Me Love,” and cut a strong 2008 cover of “You Make Me Feel Brand New” with Yolanda Adams. Joe Marchese’s liner notes complement a 16-page booklet whose album cover reproductions will have you scrambling for a magnifying glass to read the credits. This is a great set for Mathis’ fans, as well as those who might enjoy a unique twist on the Philly soul sound. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

Johnny Mathis’ Home Page

Translator: Sometimes People Forget

Translator_SometimesPeopleForgetA treasure trove of demos from 1980s powerhouse

Translator’s 1982 modern rock classic “Everywhere That I’m Not” turned out to be an ironic title, since it was itself everywhere. The record’s canny combination of an impassioned post-punk vocal, a singalong chorus and the rocket fuel of Columbia Records’ distribution network launched the single on both college and commercial radio. Translator formed in Los Angeles, but found their home on Howie Klein’s San Francisco-based 415 label, alongside Romeo Void, Wire Train and Red Rockers. The group’s debut, Heartbeats and Triggers, gained deep album play on college radio just as the medium was itself was gaining traction as a tastemaker. The band recorded three more albums, showing off talent and imagination that spanned well beyond their new wave breakthrough, but they never again caught the popular heat of their debut.

This volume of demos is centered around that key year of 1982, collecting early, pre-LP material from 1979, and extending through tracks recorded at the time of their self-titled third album in 1985. Most familiar to most listeners will be the demos of “Everywhere That I’m Not” and its album-mate “Necessary Spinning.” Each is surprisingly finished in its attitude and arrangement, sounding ready for both the studio and stage. The former is among four recordings by the original trio lineup, waxed before guitarist Robert Darlington joined the band. The band’s first two demos, “Translator” and “Lost,” show how the band merged rock ‘n’ roll roots – rockabilly, surf and mod – with a harder punk delivery. By 1980 the group had grown into the quartet that would stay together throughout their four 1980’s albums, and regroup for 2012’s Big Green Lawn.

The demos include material from each of those four original albums, including an early version of “Beyond Today,” titled “Get Out.” The demo’s raw sound – particularly its dry vocals – contrasts sharply with the album’s polished production; the original on-the-nose protest lyrics were smartly replaced by more open-ended, philosophical thoughts. In many cases, the album versions only lightly brushed up what was already in the demos, clarifying the acoustics, enlarging the drums and tightening the guitars. What will be especially interesting to fans are the songs that never made it past demo form, including the post-punk “Lost,” prog-rock “Fiendish Thingy,” punk rock “Optimism,” neo-psych “We Fell Away,” French language “My Restless Heart,” hard-rocking “Brouhaha” and the superb set closer “I’ll Be Your Summer.”

Those looking to expand on their memory of “Everywhere That I’m Not” should start with the group’s debut or a compilation of album tracks. But if you’ve already picked up the group’s catalog, this 22-track set, curated by Steve Barton, is a great place to continue. In addition to songs that never made it to a final studio version, the unrefined edges of the demos provide insight into the band’s vision of themselves. Better yet, several of the tracks were recorded live-in-the-studio, giving fans a chance to re-live the band’s stage dynamic. Translator’s breakthrough in the post-punk new wave era turns out to have been more a matter of timing than of musical destiny, as these demos show their range was a great deal wider than could make it on MTV or commercial radio. The disc’s 20-page booklet includes quotes from David Kahne, Ed Stasium, Steve Berlin and detailed liners by Steve Barton. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

Steve Barton’s Home Page
Translator’s Home Page

Dion: Recorded Live at the Bitter End, August 1971

Dion_RecordedLiveAtTheBitterEndBrilliant 1971 solo acoustic performance

Scott Fitzgerald is often quoted as saying there are no second acts in American lives, but as he observed for himself, second acts abound; not least of which was his own. But third acts are indeed rare, and particularly in the fad-driven business of music. Dion DiMucci is one of the few who successfully reinvented himself twice, transitioning from 1950s doo wop to swaggering 1960s solo stardom, and when that spotlight dimmed, reinventing himself as a sensitive folk artist with Dick Holler’s “Abraham, Martin and John.” Although this latter hit marked the end of his mainstream chart success, it spurred a period of creativity that fueled this solo show at New York’s famed Bitter End, a renewed focus on songwriting and an award-winning career as a contemporary Christian artist.

With just his guitar in hand, Dion proved himself to be a consummate entertainer, seamlessly assimilating his recent folk material with earlier pop hits and cover songs. It’s a virtuoso performance that shows off his dexterity as an acoustic picker, his versatility as a singer, and his absolute command of the stage as a performer. The set list spans 1950’s blues and rock, Dion’s early ‘60s classics and late ’60s folk songs, and a generous helping of deftly picked covers of material from Bob Dylan, Chuck Berry, Leonard Cohen, Sonny Boy Williamson, Lightnin’ Hopkins and the Beatles. Dion opens the disc with a sensitive reading of Dylan’s “Mama, You’ve Been On My Mind,” and sings out strong and clear in a riveting take of his original B-side, “Brand New Morning.”

He’s warm and funny as he introduces Chuck Berry’s “Too Much Monkey Business,” slowing the song into a croon that rides on a thumbed bass line, skipping through the verses, updating “Yokohama” to “Vietnam,” and adding some scatting for good measure. The song’s bluesy style was likely born of the material Dion recorded (but didn’t always release) in the mid-60s, exemplified here by covers of “You Better Watch Yourself” and “Don’t Start Me Talking.” He even turns his own 1961 hit “The Wanderer” into a 12-bar blues so compelling that you’ll be hard-pressed to match it to the original. 1962’s “Ruby Baby” combines a straighter reading of the melody with swaggering asides so easily interjected that they could only be the product of a decade’s nightly performances.

Dion’s resurgence as a folk performer includes Dylan’s “One Too Many Mornings,” Leonard Cohen’s “Sisters of Mercy” and a soaring taking of Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird.” His own songwriting is showcased on the singles “Your Own Back Yard,” “Sunniland” and “Sanctuary.” The former is a powerful piece about Dion’s then-recently-kicked heroin addiction, the latter two are notes of recovery and thankful living from the other side. Dion sounds content singing his love song “Sunshine Lady,” the breezy “Willigo,” and the nostalgic “Harmony Sound,” sharing the peace and happiness of his sobriety and new-found spirituality. It’s a powerful place from which to sing, and Dion let it all out for these stunning live performances. The live recording is crisp and clean, and Omnivore’s 12-page booklet includes a contemporary interview with Dion, photos and liner notes by Dean Rudland. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

Dion’s Home Page

The Crags: Long Shadow Day

Crags_LongShadowDayIntoxicating combination of country, punk, rockabilly and surf

When last heard from, this Durango, Colorado band was sporting a charming lo-fi sound. Three years later, their production is richer, their arrangements more polished and their musical scope widened. Tracy Ford sounds like Patti Smith backed by a rockabilly band on the opening “It Can’t Be So Hard,” and just as you’re settling into the two-step groove, Tim Lillyquist lays staccato surf picking into “Walida.” The band’s punk-rock, country, psychobilly, doo-wop and surf sounds are surprisingly sympathetic to one another, with Lillyquist’s guitar and Ford’s varied vocal moods tying it all together. There’s chicken-picking (“Tokyo”), ‘50s styled balladry (“Where Can I Go”) and even drippy neo-psych guitars (“In the Breeze”), and the distance between them all is shorter than you might imagine. [©2015 Hyperbolium]

The Crags’ Facebool Page
The Crags’ Reverb Nation Page