The spiky blooms of Randy Melser’s hyperactive guitar open up “Drift,” a song that’s all over the map style-wise. Lead singer James Converse comes off like a slightly more pissed-off Morrissey against a towering wall of funk-tinged straight-ahead rock. Bassist Matt Gallagher frolics madly on strings three and four while Melser pulls twenty or so rabbits out of his musical hat. The word “wizardly” applies to his mind-soothing manipulation of feedback and delay — the midsection of this song brings to mind the work of Reeves Gabriel. “Debo’s Dance” is kept happily padding along by drummer Thatcher — a bluesy jazz-up of a tune that flexes the bands urban muscles. Gallagher switches easily between unison rock lines and phat, popping bass hooks. Converse alternately croons and raps his way through the opus, a voice that shows room for maturity but possesses great power and range.
The dreamlike “Angel” is a complex number that gets good and nastily dissonant right before easing into Pink Floyd mode. Melser conjures up a smooth as 2% milk solo along with the squawking sounds of gulls. The song then violently swings into a swashbuckling 6/8 mosh led by Gallagher’s double-plucked bass and a Converse rant that “we all have wished we could only learn how to fly/why?” Having seen the boys live, this is only a small sampling of what they can throw down, hopefully a full-length record and more experience as a group together (they’re not a year old yet) will deliver on the promise made by this little nugget of goodness. Ghettoblaster, 710 S Hampton, Orlando, FL 32803