Posts Tagged ‘Permanent Records’

Salt Lick – “Into The Night”

Got another drip-dried, gutter-glued bout of heavy garage blues from L.A.’s Salt Lick today. “Into the Night” turns the turbine to swamp n’ swelter with a sludge-thick blast of power trio swagger that’s huffing from the same tube as Blue Cheer, Toad, Buffalo, and Tractor. The band’s only polished their pedal-down power since their early singles and this cut from their upcoming LP proves that the crew at Permanent know their way around a chest-rattler or two. Seems only fitting that the guys putting together those Brown Acid comps (Salt Lick double as label staffers) also have it in ‘em to channel the handlebar heaven of guttural psych-sploitation when they step up to the mic. This is a nice slice of what’s on the way from their eponymous full length, so inoculate yourself to the fuzztone fever with this cut and get ready for more when the album hits this Friday.




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Grave Flowers Bongo Band – “Birds”

Hoover III member Gabe Flores strips back the psych to a warm sunny burble on his own Grave Flowers Bongo Band. The L.A. band whips up a psych-folk froth that brings to mind Fresh Maggots a young Bolan’s T. Rex before he found moniker brevity and cocaine. There’s definitely a beard of stars at work here, and true to their promise, bongos. On “Birds” the band adopts the “faded demo from the hip” approach that’s worked well for their contemporaries in Paint this year. On the track, the band feels far from the pounded pavement of their L.A. locale. Perhaps they’ve pushed out to the Canyon and beyond for an off-kilter psych soup that’s built from the static transmissions of Gary Higgins, Sam Gopal, Trees, and John Peel favorites Tractor. Like the best psych-folk this one’s wobbled off its axis and sticks around to delight all the way through. The LP lands in full on Friday via the good folks at Permanent.



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Hoover III

While the “Guillotine” single gave some indication of what Hoover III had in store, it was hardly a proper warning for the Space Rock wormhole that unfolds on their eponymous debut. Along with members of Babylon, Numb.Er and Jesus Sons, the full band sonic assault is a beaut to behold. The band is huffing the fumes of Hawkwind and Amon Duul and likewise crawling through synth wires alongside Eloy and Sensations Fix. They digest a decade’s worth of prog, Krautrock and psych then work it into a modern monster of Echoplexed infatuation. I use the word debut sparingly, though, because this has been an album working in the wings for years. Many of the songs are found in their infancy on Bert Hoover’s lo-fi tape Destroya from 2015, but those versions sound like transmissions across a vast and unflinching galaxy once the entirely of Hoover III is let loose its atomic wail.

While many of their contemporaries sluicing through the same skies tend to lean into the clutch on their approach, belching fuzz and ozone explosions that deaden the senses, Hoover III are going for a more elegant approach. There’s still the necessary deluge of fuzz from time to time, but for the most part the band plays to the audiophile sensibilities of a ‘70s prog shut-in. They’re going for complex mind expansion on the ol’ Quadrophonic and the clean burnin’ blasts feel good on them. In that regard, they’re running through the same grooves that gave Meatbodies’ Alice such appeal last year. Being in the Permanent family this is coming from the same soil stained by Ty, Purling Hiss, Mind Meld and The Witch Fingers, but there’s a tendency to push into the pristine plastic prog of early aughts bands like Soundtrack of our Lives and Secret Machines. At the very least they’ve landed on the same planets visited by Black Mountain in their years in the cosmos.

There’s lots to unpack in listening to Hoover III and it’s a damn fun ride with some truly glowing moments. There’s a lot of crossover when bands sidle up to Space Rock, but as psychedelic, progressive and propellant as this album is, it’s never simply a prog, psych or Krautrock album. The correct combination of those particular forces gives the album that lift off of the terrestrial plain. Plenty reach out for the handhold on the genre, but it takes a bit of skill to land the grip. Hoover III nails the launch and lives to burn through the weightless decadence of a true Space Rock treasure.



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Salt Lick – “Dirty Dream”

Another ripper out of the Permanent Records camp this week. Coming on like an MC5 fever dream, this b-side from Salt Lick’s debut 7” shakes the window panes until they beg for mercy. See-sawing on a monster riff, the track is muddied and murky but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t knock the wind out of you. Salt Lick rounds up members from the Permanent staff, but its more than just a bit of nepotism here – it seems that those curating the power of pummel can also deliver it just as well. This is scuzzy, crusted, exhaust huffing garage rock with no spit shine in sight. The band lets loose with the new single on Wednesday and precedes it with a hometown release show in LA, so if you’re West Coast centered you can experience the brutal beatdown in person.



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Hoover III – “Taste In Highlife”

For the flip of their upcoming 7” LA’s Hoover III go full bore psychic shakedown instrumental, slithering their way through motorik beats that stop over at the houses of Can and Düül before snaking down through the dens of Morricone and Jodorowsky. The track builds slow, dripping with humid tension before lighting the match and letting fly with an indomitable wall of guitar scorch. The improv style looks good on the band (which features mems of Mind Meld, Jesus Sons, Numb.er, and Babylon) and they make the most of this mind flayed backer to their “Guillotne” single for Permanent. Get on it fast and there’s a super limited purple edition ltd to only 100.



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Frankie & The Witch Fingers

Rolling like heat lightning across the plains, the caravan of Frankie & the Witch Fingers approaches. The mood is calm but practically fizzing with the electricity of anticipation and the promise of a connection to the cosmic crack in the sky that’s always layin’ just out of reach. The band, Shaman and Sidemen alike, is in touch with the soul-soaked vein of psychedelic rock that took lesser men in her arms and bent them past breaking. They don’t look shaken though – far from it, in fact. They’re steel eyed and poised for when the amps tap into the fragrant heat of divine rock n’ roll. Moreover, they’re ready to act as conduits for those willing to submit to the vibrations and open their brain to the next plateau.

The Witch Fingers’ latest is about connection, vibration, ephemeral truths. They’ve tapped into something primal and concrete that’s found its way foaming into the edges of psychedelic communities from Kesey’s barrel of Owsley augmented truth to the very last convulsion of the ayahuasca shakes. Brain Telephone is the key to the fifth dimension, an acid bath for the soul delivered in pulsating waves via fuzz guitar. It’s the band’s own I Ching for those who’d rather find their way through the keyhole via organ-laced sweat revival than in the spines of traditional text. Think of Frankie as your psilocybin Sherpas, your six-string snake healers, your sonic Ouija to the other side. They’ve peered around the corner and just want you to take their hand. You could do worse than to leap without looking. Rock n’ Roll is a cheap thrill born over a hundred times, but at least in this iteration its working to break free.


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Frankie and the Witch Fingers

L.A. psych swingers Frankie and the Witch Fingers are back and tapping into a dank sweat lodge brand of psychedelia that sows its seeds in the euphoric daze that drove Roky Erikson, The Remains and Rudy Martinez (aka the ephemeral Question Mark). They’re looking to find that heat lightning intangibility that crops up when the stars are aligned just right and the crowd is in full sway. “Lernings Of The Light” is a full-on, harp-pocked, blooze-psych blowout that rattles the rafters and picks up the mantle that so many of the class of ’68 left curled and waiting between the tubes of their battered amps. New one is out via Permanent in September.




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Mind Meld

L.A.’s Mind Meld follow up their tease of single, “The Viper,” with a full length that makes good on all the promises locked into that rock candy double-shot. The album shares a a few obsessions with the current crop of metal-dipped, space-rock altar worshipers, and they’re making a very worthy bid to be running in the same pack that Ty, Meatbodies and Aussie heavies like King Gizzard and Orb are heading up. The band knows their way around the yoke of heaviness, but for every Winnebago flattening riff they add a dose of catchy crunch topping and an air of spaciness that speaks to their love of ’70s wizards like Hawkwind or The Edgar Broughton Band. The latter, they even pay double down respects to here with a cover of the band’s Why Can’t Somebody Love Me”.

The eponymous album is pure hedonistic fury, amps on fire and tumbling down with pumice and ash. Though that almost tips a cap into doom territory, and while its obvious that the record shelves of Mind Meld members are not without a few Sabbath records, they actually keep the tone celebratory. Its heavy, but not evil. There’s more Blue Cheer in their growl than anything, frying out the West Coast vibes and feeling like they’re having a pretty good time doing it. Check out the band’s album in full below, dressed up in all is garage-psych glory. Recommended you tip the volume knob rightward here. Shake the windows.



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Frankie & The Witch Fingers – “Get Down”

I’ve already heaped praise on Frankie & The Witch Fingers’ sophomore LP, but anything worth saying is worth saying again. The clip for album standout “Get Down” mixes creepy laundromat antics, psychedelic substances and 80’s graffix for a mindblow video that’s fitted to melt your brain into goo. “Get Down” is probably one of the choicest cuts from the LP, drivin’ and sweatin’ and shot solid with a bass riff that’s primed to dance. If you haven’t picked it up, its gettin’ to be time. Its out today.

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Frankie & The Witch Fingers

The impossibly named Frankie & The Witch Fingers are back at bat for Permanent and this time they’ve beefed up their sound, dropped a dime in the time machine and gone full on groove with the best intentions and some pretty solid results. They roll the R&B rollick of the early ’70s into the psych sway of the latter half of the ’60s with a studied approach that proves these boys have pawed through their ? Mark and the Mysterians bootlegs and Shadows of Knight deep cuts, but they know that there’s always room to blow a things a bit bigger, louder and hazier. There’s also a hangover of six ton glamour from the last great wave of garage before the devil brought the kids lo-fi and the glam got gritty.

Frankie and who knows how many of the Witch Fingers must have spent a little bit of time wading through the likes of The Cato Salsa Experience, The Mooney Suzuki when their sweat was as electric as hell and Jack White’s temporary shelter, The Go. Back when garage was buzz and the budgets were still outsized, there was an impulse to raise a ruckus like it was on the company’s dime and Frankie are playing like they’ve got ambitions far bigger than their reputable, if not necessarily sizeable home on Permanent. But I like their moxie and that’s the sound that rattles the woofers and cones on Heavy Roller. Its 1500 watts of moxie blown to analog bits and seething with charm that probably owns more than one pair of leather pants and is somehow pulling off that hat in a way you know you can’t. The most fun records have that spark runnin’ through them and its just as important as hooks. If you can’t invent the sound, hell you better inhabit it and wear it well. Frankie and the Witch Fingers are doing that and making it look fun.




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