I’ve been enjoying the worn-in aura of Silver Synthetic since their EP hit last year and as they slide into an album proper, they continue to carve out a casual niche in the Cosmic American cult. Despite their punk backgrounds, with members of Bottomfeeders and Jeff the Brotherhood on board, the band’s eponymous debut is more interested in the kind of late night, hip-slung, smoke-thick bar rock that’s stacked high with harmonies and ready to swap strums for twang at any moment. There’s not a stiff note on the record, and the band seems to inhabit their new scruffed sensibilities with ease. With the Allmans held high enough to cast a shadow, the band finds themselves lying down well with quite a few of their West Coast counterparts, hitting the same mix of country rumble and back bar shuffle as Pacific Range and GospelbeacH.
It’s a good thing that the temps are rising, because this is a windows open album, careening towards your neighbors from the porch and spreading goodwill wherever it floats. There’s a classic feel that’s baked in, inextricably tied to aimless afternoons and denim down nights. Its hard to deny a locked down rhythm section and some beer battered leads, and Silver Synthetic seem to effortlessly pair creamed harmony hooks with the kind of charmed choogle that’s gonna play well when they get back on those stages. While that might not be for a while, that shouldn’t stop you from letting the volume push a bit past the acceptable levels to let the full sun belt boogie roll on the way it was intended. This is one of those debuts that comes in fully formed, and despite packing in as much cosmic careen as they can, only leaves ‘em wanting more as the last notes fade on the breeze.
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