The Brian Wilson Shock Treatment Druid Time Lords
(2011, Poe/Slutfish Records)

Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover and still not know the whole story. The Brian Wilson Shock Treatment, wildmen (and -women) who split time between New Paltz and Brooklyn and ply a tough but simplistic brand of wiggy garage rock, ostensibly need a new CD mainly as an excuse for another round of touring, as many local release-party gigs as they can wrangle, and perhaps a new T-shirt design. More than this shouldnโ€™t be expected from a band that features on its CD cover a guy with a box on his head and wielding a battle-axe, and a PO box address rather than a URL (hey, itโ€™s 2011!) on the back. And the opening few tracks of Druid Time Lords bear out such modest goals: walking bass lines buried in admirable amounts of guitar goo-goo muck, and a likable knuckle-dragging aesthetic in general.

But then comes the more ambitious โ€œBangladesh,โ€ a hypnotic jam thatโ€™s kissinโ€™ cousins with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and any assumptions made about this band get foggy. That tune is followed by a woolly cover of โ€œPleasant Valley Sundayโ€ (yes, made famous by the Monkees) that retains its killer hook even as it threatens to spin out of control (it doesnโ€™t), which in turn sets up the swinging monster beat of the title track. All of this action takes place in the first half of this 50-minute CD; later songs include โ€œThe Moons of Jupiterโ€ (swirling, flute-driven dark ambience), โ€œSnake Goddessโ€ (bouncy distortion-pop), and the slow-burning, trippy ramble โ€œInterstellar Loser.โ€ www.myspace.com/thebrianwilsonshocktreatment.

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