Those Peabodys

Those Peabodys

Those Peabodys


If riffage were rabble, this would be the French Revolution. If riffage were ruffles, this would be the dressing room at the Met. If riffage were roughage, this would be a whole fucking case of All-Bran.

Those Peabodys know their riffs, inside and out, double-speed and half time. Cramming more little chunks of guitar-drum-bass tightness than I thought was humanly possible in two minutes, the duo often reminds me of bygone superstars the Didjits, speeding through power chords and breakneck drumming with the greatest ease. “Judie” is a love song of sorts, the kind that breaks the legs off your bed. “Party At My House,” close to the end of the record, wins the Golden Riff award, presenting my ears with a tour of strings-and-skins trickery that sometimes takes it easy, sometimes takes it slow, but always moves inexorably forward. Monster Magnet and Fu Manchu fans take note — while this may not be as noddy and red-eyed as you’re used to, it certainly fits in with that fine fine tradition.

Post-Parlo Records, Box 49121, Austin, TX 78765;

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