Ass, Grass, Laughing Gas
Atlanta garage hicks get their freak-folk mustaches on
Debbie Maron
Tuesday, January 31st 2006
-
photo: Danny Hole
Chicks dig their brains.
Details:
Let It Bloom
In The Red
Stream "Sea of Blasphemy"
Stream "Can't Dance" (Windows Media Player)
Most Popular
-
Scientology's Crushing Defeat A previously unpublished saga of an $8 million check
-
Heath Ledger Peers Into The Abyss in The Dark Knight Christopher Nolan's Batman returns, delivers the kick-ass goods
-
The Houses That Ruthlessness Built Welcome to middling baseball in sleek new cathedrals
-
The NYPD Rips Up Rappers Rebel Diaz and their hip-hop politics run afoul of the cops
-
The Trials of Jean Grae Why an NYC rap star threatened retirement, and why she hasn't stopped threatening yet
Their domain is the garage, bitch—not some enchanted forest. They're fucked-up, Atlanta-bred, corn-fed Pucks, bedraggled in flannel. And yeah, the Black Lips are still green, but so fucking ready to wrangle some nymph slut pussy and hex derelict ears with beer, new-grown 'staches, and ('cause chicks dig brains) the hemlock of naive genius. After mewling and puking their way through reckless, foul-mouthed noize (the debut album) and soul-tinged Christ-metaphor fascination (the deux), on Let It Bloom Black Lips embrace a nascent haute brew of sunburnt, psychedelic freak folk. Yet the bed-wetters' signature sound—an alt-punk, drugged-up creature-folk choir choking on laughing gas; pealing swells of preternatural Malkmusian caterwauls that maul and skewer tender meat-cut bastions of magic 'shroom tunes—has certainly sustained. "Sea of Blasphemy" is like Velvets' "European Son" at the Bayou, a Carnival cruise ship bobbing in country-fried bedlam and broken glass. "Hippie, Hippie, Hoorah" 's a klezmatic snake charm, coaxing brown-water rivulets out of a quixotic cauldron. "Dirty Hands" stirs homoeroticism into the summertime nostalgia pot and leaves Annette crying alone; it's a lost beach-movie folio where Frankie and Fabian get baked, drop trou, and make out. But crudity's par for the course when acid's your dinner.
Recent Articles
More by Debbie Maron
Mouse & Masque
Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse elate, punk the masses
Wanting You to Want Her to Be the Most Cake
Ass, Grass, Laughing Gas
Atlanta garage hicks get their freak-folk mustaches on
Village Voice Insiders
- Weekly villagevoice.com
- Weekly freebies and Special Offers
- Daily "What To Do in NYC" E-mail
- Information on the Performing Arts
| buy, sell, trade 3,672 | musician 2,675 |
| rentals 18,419 | jobs 5,263 |
| adult entertainment 9,497 | |
| classifieds | backpage.com | Post ads for free! | |
|---|---|
