Some responsibly-sourced, pole-and-line-caught psych-rock from Wet Tuna here. The Vermont duo’s debut LP sees the pair layering up percussion, organs, vocals and of course some fuzzy fuzzy guitars to create freak-rock jams reminiscent of a lower-budget Moon Duo. Out via Feeding Tube Records (Blue Sabbath Black Fiji, Kurt Vile).
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I’m gonna level with you, folks: this record’s front cover depicts an old-school truck riding out of the rising sun, and its blurb is a picture of two astronauts in space suits leaning on guitars. Is there anything left to talk about? Do you need me to spend the next two paragraphs throwing out genre slang, or can we quit and go home?
Nah. Wet Tuna -- a band name I’ll happily type but maybe never say out loud -- jam and jam and jam, sly and on the low, letting their guitars do the mumbling for a self-satisfied non event of psychedelic downtime. They take their time in such a way that their songs mesh together into a slush of plucked-from-air grooves, with “Boogie Loser”, “Nature Lover” and “Miles of Sobs” all kind of sounding like different dynamic calibrations of the same general wahing theme music. The fact that it never really goes anywhere speaks to their road trippin’, space suitin’ vibe -- it’s nothing you didn’t already know, and their drum machines plod on as if to suggest there’s always more territory to jam out an ode to.
The second side might be slightly more my speed, a pastoral and twanging version of their sound emerging in chance moments: “I’d Rather Be Hayin” is lost in a conversation of interruptions, vocals swishing around in a glass as warped soundscapes intersect and guitars whine with summertime lovesickness. Then the record goes acoustic for a moment and I couldn’t be happier; the side of Wet Tuna that exists on the ground would be fine long-distance travel company.
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