Share EMBRACE - Sleepy Sun (ATP/R)
When I was a young man, I had the misfortune of hearing Pink Floyd's "Dark side of the moon". It clearly traumatised me. I rushed into the arms of Suzi Quatro and quietly waited for punk to happen. Since then, I have, with the noticeable exception of Television's "Marquee Moon", studiously avoided albums whose eight songs spread themselves thinly over a clearly bloated 45 minutes.
The horror is that, after listening to 20 CDs that arrived at the desk of the I-94 Bar, I am shocked to discover those bleak days are back. The '70s have come back to bite us on the arse. Thank Christ that Joan Jett is playing the Annandale this weekend. After being confronted by this revival of the "meandering" guitar solo and the "meaningful" poetry of dorky high school virgins, I very much need to be hit over the head repeatedly by a brutal three chord combination.
Look, if you don't really know why punk happened in the first place, you might adore Sleepy Sun. Hailing from the shower dodging depths of San Francisco, I'm sure they think they are carrying on a grand tradition. I'm sure they believe they are the meek who have come to inherit the Earth. The trouble is that their brand of meek comes complete with the smug air of genuine musicianship and bicycle ownership. The occasional burst of free form freakery may fool some in to believing there is a harder edge to this new psychadelia. Sorry, the LA Blues style freak out lasts about 30 seconds before returning to pastoral acoustic guitars and whinging vocals.
Rather than tell you anything more about this band, here is my punk review: (If you have a guitar, set it to a barred A chord and thrash your way through at about one hundred and seventy beats per minute.)
I heard a hippy band and they were shit
I kicked the crap right out of it
Fuck off. Fuck Off. Hippy Shit. Fuck off. Fuck Off. Hippy Shit
(2nd Verse same as the first)
I feel much better now. - Bob Short
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