The SlatsThe Great Plains of San Francisco
The Tyros Label
minisculemolecule@hotmail.com
BUY ON AMAZON: The Slats – The Great Plains of San Francisco
The Slats reach out from a Weezer-esque base to paint in basement drum beats with technically crafted guitar slop. Cox has a gift for embodying unpredictability in pop songs. The controlled chaos of his loose, unexpected guitar parts with twisting riffs somehow sound good. That’s what you get after some 2 years of conspiring to write the weirdest possible rock music. Some of the lead guitar actually remeinds me of the solos on The Vandals’ album, The Quickening. This album is a recording of the clearest sounds possible out of a sh!++y amp, and that makes for good art. Something special may have been done in production, both with the guitars and with Cox’s caffeinated vocals, which often closely match the overdrive. While the songs on this album seem to strive collectively for insanity in a minimalist style, they all have an underlying quirkiness that goes down smoothly.
As is usually a good idea, The Slats place two of the catchiest songs back-to-back at the beginning. ”The Weapon That I USed” is contagious and wacky, never even repeating itself. After an abrupt ending and 15 seconds of randomness, the more streamlined “A Payola Granola” instantly captures the attention as an identifiable pop song with its grinding guitar and clear voice: “Three blocks away, from suburbia…”. ”Hate Now” is aggressive and fun, but decidedly one-dimensional. ”Diatomic” shares the appeal of the first two songs, but without immediate shocking guitar work. It is a much more beat-driven track, and hey, you don’t need stunning notes if it works without them.
“Obliterate These Beats” is an almost completely instrumental extension of the opening hook, which would be nicer in a song with Cox’s tireless vocal delivery. Maybe he thought that would be overkill, but this hook was meant to be part of something greater. The Doomsday Girls’ song, “You Ruined A Good Idea”, is the last real song on this disc, a delightful and clean sing-along. It closes an album of potential hits and seemingly meaningless exploration, all of it leaving you with a tapping foot and a smirk.
