By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
So, Anaheim resident Heidi Follin told me, Gondry instructed his music supervisor to find a reasonable simulacrum; she found them in Follin's 20-year-old son Richie James Eaton's band, the Willowz, rumored subjects of a heated West Coast bidding buzz (as well as Anaheim-scene animus).
On their 20-minute self-titled debut, the Willowz don't really sound like the White Stripesthere's not much blues in their scrappy garage-punk blasts, and I'm not sure Richie could rip a solo if Kirsten Dunst begged him to. But the band musters the quick and dirty rush of teenage riff-rock as spontaneously as Jack White does it meticulously.
And they're probably the sweetest bunch of garagistas this side of Beat Happening: "Meet Your Demise" sounds exactly like Richie and bassist Jessica Reynoza are saying "mission to Mars," which they should be. Richie's not just finding it hard to be a gentleman; he's finding it hard to be a man at all.