Welcome to my humble abode! Drinks are in the back, and I will be spinning records all night. Avoid the basement, unless you want to meet some of our compulsory "guests."
No better way to get a party started than some haunting, reverb drenched garage rock. These guys may have been around in the 1960s (did I see them in Watsonville at that drug den with some burnt out hippies?), or they may just be some lads with a love of that always classic retro sound. "Tell Me Who You Love" and "I've Waited Such a Long Time" have gotten the crowd loose and limber on the dance floor, and will likely be put on repeat on your audio player.
Once the scream rips through "Northern Blood," I know my guests are in for a treat. The lovely morsels down in the basement feel fright grip them in a way they have never known. I however, grab another scotch and join the ghouls on the dance-floor. This split is one of the best I have heard in some time, with two excellent psychedelic rock bands putting forth their best foot and shaking the bones from a few skeletons in my proximity. We flip the record, and cool down with the fuzzed out surf hooks of Os Noctambulos. Sweat is pouring off of those still with skin and a request is made to play the record again. I oblige.
A few of the guests take a break to enjoy some of the refreshments. A few of our compulsory guests are brought up to the party to serve their purpose, and I put on this EP from Los Angeles. Repetitive but hypnotic, it builds to a frenzied level as the bass pushes my hips back and forth. The guests chatting in the kitchen can not help but to emulate this movement, and when "Honey Honey" explodes, not a single individual is left sitting.
I love Shape Breaker. I put their most righteous last record on our best of 2013 list. Thankfully, the group is getting the respect they deserve these days, and Gary Records was smart enough to put together a transatlantic split release with the equally great Fuck Mountain. 7 inch records are not the best music medium at a party, but I don't know if my guests could have lived through a full length from either band. The amount of jumping and thumping that went on as these tracks were played caused the needle to skip like a cholo in Chula Vista riding an earthquake. I now need to buy another copy of this record.
I can tell we need a change of pace to keep this party going. I pop in Evasive Backflip's newest cassette tape on Grandpa Bay Recordings and let the more experimental among my friends display their dance moves. Some of the witches really get into the title track. They mention that much like the jazzy post-rock this band possess, churning a cauldron incorporates similar movements. Who knew? The sing along ending of the track catches everyone off guard, and makes a fan of even the most jaded ghosts.
Time to eat! I could go for the fat one myself (non-bloodsuckers don't realize they have tastier insides). No Valley plays pretty garage pop that goes down well with a side of lung and brain. I don't know Charlie or why he don't surf, but the have a great song about said topic. My beloved state burns in said song, but if we go out listening to this EP, that's not so bad.
Ambsace - BOREAL (2013)
Now that everyone is full on human flesh, we grab our wine and spirits and take a seat by the fire. Ambsace is up next, and this cassette puts everyone in that loving mood that only creatures of the night can know. This is pop music, but not like the type currently playing on the radio or hipster night-clubs. Ethereal vocals combined with funeral-dirge pop beats and surprisingly well layered background harmonies go over well with this group of the dead and haunted.
What better way to end our party than with a band called "Ghost Dance?" Best yet, they create well composed psychedelic garage rock that always goes over well in my home. These lads were apparently pulled from the Missouri wilderness from a feral beast mother, and if this story checks out, they will make it onto my next round of invitations. If not, they will suffer dearly. "Howlin'" is a great song, if I do say so myself.
Dats a lot of tunes, you've been holding out on us.
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