· details
With its Byrds-inpired jangle, harmonized “whoah-oh”s, and overflowing nervous energy, this could very well be an unearthed recording from the liminal era between “new wave” and “alternative”.
If there is one word to describe this latest outing from Kim Salmon, with its droning rumbles, hazy distortion, and proto-punk vibe, it is “menacing”. This is an album you apologize to, maybe buy it a drink to be safe.
It’s not ska, and it’s not rocksteady, but it’s definitely Jamaican and powerfully dancy — you can call it “69 Reggae” after the year of its initial popularity.
On Halloween I fell asleep to this horror-punk platter playing, and dreamt of whirling in a mosh pit in a toxic swamp, catching elbows and knees from zombie alligators and bouncing off leaking radioactive waste barrels. I woke up covered in bruises.
Like the whoomp from pouring too much firestarter on and throwing the match in, this band is in your face, exciting and a bit scary at the same time, with its snarling guitars, sneering vocals, and the heft of every possible item in the garage.
lacking.org