ROUGH TRADE STAFF PICKS
Really incredible effort from Psychedelic Porn Crumpets - Full of infectiously catchy psychedelic jams.
There is something a bit embarrassing about watching Thee Oh Sees perform stripped back versions of their songs by the side of a highway in San Francisco, on YouTube in low res. Because I don't think that is what they intended when they made the live documentary Hounds of Foggy Notion. I am very thankful that this has been re released on vinyl because now I can listen to it in its primitive form and pretend I'm walking around a spooky house running away from folk-orcs. It's a collection of songs from all the early albums and they've all been cranked up a few notches of low fi. In a very beautiful way. Pleasant but also a bit chilling in parts ( the opening track is called The Gilded Cunt). I also love the cover art very much, drawn by JDP himself.
Selfishly, so glad that none of the artists on this West Coast 60s/70s AM comp never made it because I don't want to live in a world where this expertly compiled collection isn't together. In an alternative universe the artists on this would have been Laurel Canyon royalty. There's a track on the physical copies called Holy River that blows my pathetic mind, it's a Byrdsian psych pop odyssey.
From their proto-punk metal debut, to their straight up metal second LP Zig Zags move fittingly onto thrash metal on album three. Best listened to in your suburban parent's basement, whilst you slam tins, joints and stare lustly at Cindy Crawford posters.
Perfectly timed for sweltering summer listening, that swinging and shimmering jangle indie pop that I cannot function without when the long nights approach. Sounds even more lush when consumed with a cold drink that is more ice than liquid.
Be still my beating heart. This boxset is so beautiful. In quiet moments I hide behind the main counter when no one is looking just to hold it close and run my fingers slowly over the pages of its perfect bound 28 book featuring unseen photographs and artefacts. I’ll imagine the replica 24” by 12” poster hanging on the wall by my bed and daydream about all the places I could stick the replica Hug My Soul sticker. I’ll whisper the song titles quietly to myself. Like A Motorway, Western Wind, Highgate Road Incident. Tankerville. The words coming apart in my mouth, like a lover’s lips on mine. I wish. I wish it could be mine, but I know in my heart it never will be. It breaks my heart a little bit every time someone buys it, knowing there is one less copy out there. One less chance for us to be together. And I dream, because that’s all I can do right now. I dream. That some day, in some place somewhere far away from here, I’ll get paid enough to actually buy it.
A divine surprise from The National!
Rough Trade favourites have dropped a brand new seven that we've got on repeat. Yet another glorious slice of bright and breezy indie rock.
The argument of Australia’s scuzzy psych world conquer has already been won. But, just in case you need a bit more convincing before we all put on our coolest band tees and ride off into a psychedelic sunset of two drummers (always the answer) and slow burning, groovy garage bliss, you’ve gotta listen to Melbourne bone rattling freewheelers Money For Rope; specifically their latest release Picture Us. OH MAN THIS IS RAD!
Picture Us is an all-encompassing, awe encompassing fuzz fest that’s grossly attractive in a ‘punch in the face from a band of five really beautiful haired Aussies’ kind of way, there’s only so many ways of describing the wildest of fevers without using the word fuzz way too much for anyone’s good. So, instead I’m going to give you a brief insight to my hypothetical music video series I would want to make as an accompaniment to this gem. I’m talking raucous zombies dancing the twist on surfboards, tambourines flying without any regard to health and safety codes and general rumbling chaos on a red-hot sandy beach in Tasmania. Yes.
Dissonant alt-sludge that is equal parts unsettling and life affirming. Pass me the bucket because I want to puke from happiness.
MASSIVE. Can somebody just mainline Holding Pattern straight into my veins please?
OMG You like The National? You're such a sad man cliche. Whatever m8, this album is pure beauty, and we don't need another Boxer because it already exists. The cascading strings on Quiet Light, the pure heartbreak of Oblivions, the guests all over the record, the soundtrack to every midlife crisis you'll ever have. Fuck the haters, get over yourselves aye.
Everything I love about The Soft Pack, early good Ty Segall and TPTBUTET all put in a garage rock blender and vomited into my mouth by a stranger. RAD.