I want to really, really like, to love, to adore The Turbosonics‘ new CD, Tres Gatos Suave, a meaty slab of surf from one of Pittsburgh’s mightiest purveyors of the form.
But, for every track like opener “Ricochet,” a real classic 60s rocker, there’s a dud like the trying-too-hard-to-be-Floydian “Meat Slicer From Outer Space.” For every surprise like the Motorheadish “Black Spoon Fuzz,” these guys take some cringe-worthy, culturally inexcusable missteps. (Really? Sampling Pulp Fiction in “Dune Burger?” What is this? Sloppy homage a la 1994? I can tell just by listening to your songs that your surf cred runs deeper than THIS!)
((Grumble.)) Oh yeah, right, WELCOME TO PITTSBURGH!!!
Where was I? Broke my consternation.
Now, I like The Burghersturbosonic. The trio’s first disc was sadly overlooked and, though ’twas a little rough in spots, it showed tremendous promise. Live, these guys can be mean. And don’t mess with bassist Keith Caldwell. Man will spout some social justice your way!
All in all, the new disc is a step in the right direction. Closer “Marcellus Waltz” (With all the fracking in the state, they couldn’t have gone with the obvious “Marcellus Shale Waltz?”) has some of the best noodling on the disc, “Sand Devil” rips (though is ragged) and “Skip Jack Strut” is hooky in all of the right ways.
Hey, hey, they’ve got some growing to do. I’ll say that much, I’ll say that much.
VERDICT: cannot wait for numero tres.
Squirrel Hill. Yeah, Squirrel Hill. I’m looking atchyou. justinvellucci AT gmail DOT com. Don’t hide behind The Manor. I see you at Independence, too. You can’t hide. Write!