Polished grit. Garage rock by seasoned professionals.
This is country garage rock.
Akin to Elvis recording in the jungle room at Graceland
I imagine that some snooty music critics would consider this high art and look down upon us plebeians who don’t understand it.
Neon Native totally jams and is made to be played loud. Very, very loud.
Garage rock with jazzy, funky bits and soul galore.
If you are interested to hear part of the creative process that went into making the Grammy award-winning swan song of one of the most influential bands of the past 30 years, then you should seek this record out.
Live at the Mayan, Los Angeles is not a sing-a-long rock album; it is not a headbanging rock album; it is a rock album that has a groove that ebbs and flows without being jarring.
This record can be summed up in three words: polished garage rock.
Brother O’Brother is not playing dress up and doing their best to imitate other, more famous, two-piece rock bands. Brother O’Brother is an amalgamation of those bands with their own special flare.
The songs are dirty and rough; they make you grit your teeth and pump your fist.
It sounds like Jimi Hendrix and The White Stripes had a baby.
The amount of sound that is produced by just two guys is remarkable. Some two piece bands feel like they are lacking, but not Black Pistol Fire.
It sounds as if punk garage rock has been run through a filter of 1950s poodle skirts and bobby socks and then heavily distorted.
Brittany Howard takes you to church; it is a small church with bad lighting, blown speakers, and terrible acoustics, but it is church.
It is as if Deap Vally was formed in the laboratory of a mad musical scientist.