Acid Washed

Acid Washed

Acid Washed

Record Makers

Behold the Frenchmen of Acid Washed and let the ecstasy begin.

Listening to Acid Washed’s new self-titled album is a lot like dance-walking through Times Square in New York City at night with 100,000 of your closest friends. It’s shiny, shimmery, and definitely splendid. You’re pulled through every song relentlessly, steadily, and without respite. This is best represented by the opening track “General Motors, Detroit, America” and the fourth track “Concorde in the Sunrise.” It’s clear that we are at the mercy of Acid Washed, strapped into a thrusting Bugatti, flying down the Autobahn. Enjoy the ride. You’re not alone.

New voice Barbara Panther, born in Rwanda and raised in Brussels, Belgium, also makes an appearance, in addition to a gaggle of other monstrous people. Her lyrics drip with sultry precision as she talks about her favorite toy that lives around her hips in “Snake.” She wants to paint our faces and dominate us, and we’re more than happy to submit. In “Snows Melt,” Acid Washed and Panther double-team the ears and hypnotize the brain. On and on, it takes you over and the only things you can do are live inside the chant and try not to get in the way.

Get this. Get this now.

Acid Washed: www.myspace.com/weareacidwashed

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