the shine brothers

Back with Cardinal Fuzz, which just for a second we’d like to extend a big thanks to Dave for sending over copies of the awesome Cult of Dom Keller album – reviewed a little later – and that frankly top of the wants list ragged barracudas single – reviewed a little earlier. Mugstar feature later though not before some fond words are passed the Shine Brothers. Sadly it appears that this one has sold out of its first press 200 only red wax variant, 500 in total (200 on the aforementioned red wax with 50 of those going to in tune record emporiums) which means hopefully you may yet still be able to bag a copy of. And bag a copy of you may well be advised to do for ‘hello grief birds! – the shine brothers’ is a bit of a dandy that first appeared on the coolest of cassette labels Burger last summer in a strictly limited 250 edition. The shine brothers feature among their ranks ex members of the black angels and the woven bones, between them there’s no doubting their obvious love of all things 60’s beat garage grooved for their slant on pop is peppered in a frazzled psychotropia that’s superbly scratched with the kind of rawness and lo-fi cradling that made releases flying out of the Estrus stable such a turntable treat. Reference wise admirers of both the 13th floor elevators and a youthful Love (see ‘creation’) will find much to admire and swoon to amid these 10 cuts as it veers from moments of shit faced wasted vibes as on the smoking cool ‘drug dogs’ (whose needling riffage we’d swear was the result of a bunk up between the flaming groovies and television) to the wayward 50’s freak-a-billy kookiness of ’white tears’ which taps directly into the heart of Lux Interior’s legendary ’purple knif’ radio broadcasts. Elsewhere ’climb the ladder’ is sumptuously stirred in coolly cut Jan and Dean / Beach Boys west coast surf-a-delic motifs replete with kooky kazoos while the strut shimmying chocolate watchband rave up that is the freakishly mooching fuzz flecked ‘silver knife’. ordinarily ’so many people’ with its button braced scowl channelling heavy on Roky albeit as though in a head to head with the Syndicate of Sound would have earned itself the coolest thing here tag where it not for the psychotic slab of darkly fracturing psychedelicised disturbia that sees the set edging to the end grooves courtesy of ’when Wendy burns’ – an absolutely must hear experience that prowls, prickles and dissipates in all manner of weird and warping wooziness to leave you in a bad trip headspin – something which by our reckoning should appeal to disciples of Psychic TV’s more unhinged and fragmented mindfucks. Essential. Nuff said.

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