7/10
By Connor Hayes
The cult stars of the West Coast phenomena that is beach goth are back.
With their latest effort, Brooks, Matt, Scott and the gang have crafted a 40 minute, 11 track foray that sees the band maturing not only in a musical sense, but also on a lyrical level.
The album commences with Big Toe, a rambling ballad about a capricious lover ("She can hex like a crow/She howls harder than the wind can blow/Her love is so uncomfortable/She strikes down like a hammer on your big toe"), an appropriate starting track for an album by the L.A. locals. It moseys on into Black Memories, a sun-touched number with a deceptively somber plea ("Where are you going?/Come back with my heart/Sure as the wind keeps blowing/Nothing's going to heal these scars).
This is followed by the synthy (yes, synthy), ghost-of-an-80's-pop-hit title track, Chinese Fountain. Although a huge stylistic shift for the band, the track works surprisingly well within the confines of the album itself, as well as being supremely catchy in it's own right. It even waxes philosophy in the form of social commentary: "Is the techno so shitty, even disco seems punk?/Like the water's so filthy, its no wonder why we're drunk/Every little kid wants a computer in his pocket/the trophies on the mantles of the digital prophets/the Internet is bigger than Jesus and John Lennon/And nobody wants to know where we're headed".
Interestingly, the midpoint of the album sustains this deeper look at the world and society; what began with Chinese Fountain, continues in Dull Boy. The track plods along steadily, all the while critiquing the microcosm of Los Angeles, commenting on anything and everything from the sprawl of urbanization, to the prevalence of hard drug use among the youth: "Lost in the valley of malls/The kids are all eating themselves/Living on capsules and balls/Thinking that there's nowhere else at all". The chorus, too, seems to reflect in an existential manner, on the state of the City of Angels and on the self ("I'm a dull boy/With a dead dream/Searching for a pulse, in any given scene/This cities shrinking down/I think it's time to leave this town/Rolling out while there's still time/Littered all my memories behind").
Then the album dips into more of what you'd expect from the Growlers back catalogue: both Good Advice and Magnificent Sadness bring the listener right back to the band's musical nucleus, i.e. rollicking, organ-accented, meanderings of personal thoughts and feelings. Going Gets Tough sticks out for it's sincerity, and memorable chorus: "Still always remembering/When the going gets tough/That the labor of our love/Will reward us soon enough".
Love Test reinvigorates the album, however, with a jangly tune about preferences in women and a longing for the kind of certainty that honest love brings, decrying the reality that there is no such thing as a "love test". And it's followup, Not The Man, is a brutally honest effort at a self assessment: "Can I ever get tired of asking for things?/Well everybody else does/Im not the only one suffering/But I wish I was/All they want is a pat on the back/ For putting up with me for so long/So many imaginary reasons/For treating everybody so wrong." This, couple with the vocal harmonies of the chorus make it one of the strongest on a heavily introspective album.
The album closer, Sunset Drive, has the sort of closure that dusk brings, and in that sense stays true to it's title. Not a band to toot it's own horn, The Growlers are simply comfortable to further reflect on the present state of the world, even as the end approaches. Many die hard fans were shocked when the title track was released, worried that the band had somehow "sold out", or gone for a more pop-friendly venture. Their fears were unfounded, however: The Growlers haven't taken a different road, they've simply gotten more philosophical.
By Connor Hayes
The cult stars of the West Coast phenomena that is beach goth are back.
With their latest effort, Brooks, Matt, Scott and the gang have crafted a 40 minute, 11 track foray that sees the band maturing not only in a musical sense, but also on a lyrical level.
The album commences with Big Toe, a rambling ballad about a capricious lover ("She can hex like a crow/She howls harder than the wind can blow/Her love is so uncomfortable/She strikes down like a hammer on your big toe"), an appropriate starting track for an album by the L.A. locals. It moseys on into Black Memories, a sun-touched number with a deceptively somber plea ("Where are you going?/Come back with my heart/Sure as the wind keeps blowing/Nothing's going to heal these scars).
This is followed by the synthy (yes, synthy), ghost-of-an-80's-pop-hit title track, Chinese Fountain. Although a huge stylistic shift for the band, the track works surprisingly well within the confines of the album itself, as well as being supremely catchy in it's own right. It even waxes philosophy in the form of social commentary: "Is the techno so shitty, even disco seems punk?/Like the water's so filthy, its no wonder why we're drunk/Every little kid wants a computer in his pocket/the trophies on the mantles of the digital prophets/the Internet is bigger than Jesus and John Lennon/And nobody wants to know where we're headed".
Interestingly, the midpoint of the album sustains this deeper look at the world and society; what began with Chinese Fountain, continues in Dull Boy. The track plods along steadily, all the while critiquing the microcosm of Los Angeles, commenting on anything and everything from the sprawl of urbanization, to the prevalence of hard drug use among the youth: "Lost in the valley of malls/The kids are all eating themselves/Living on capsules and balls/Thinking that there's nowhere else at all". The chorus, too, seems to reflect in an existential manner, on the state of the City of Angels and on the self ("I'm a dull boy/With a dead dream/Searching for a pulse, in any given scene/This cities shrinking down/I think it's time to leave this town/Rolling out while there's still time/Littered all my memories behind").
Then the album dips into more of what you'd expect from the Growlers back catalogue: both Good Advice and Magnificent Sadness bring the listener right back to the band's musical nucleus, i.e. rollicking, organ-accented, meanderings of personal thoughts and feelings. Going Gets Tough sticks out for it's sincerity, and memorable chorus: "Still always remembering/When the going gets tough/That the labor of our love/Will reward us soon enough".
Love Test reinvigorates the album, however, with a jangly tune about preferences in women and a longing for the kind of certainty that honest love brings, decrying the reality that there is no such thing as a "love test". And it's followup, Not The Man, is a brutally honest effort at a self assessment: "Can I ever get tired of asking for things?/Well everybody else does/Im not the only one suffering/But I wish I was/All they want is a pat on the back/ For putting up with me for so long/So many imaginary reasons/For treating everybody so wrong." This, couple with the vocal harmonies of the chorus make it one of the strongest on a heavily introspective album.
The album closer, Sunset Drive, has the sort of closure that dusk brings, and in that sense stays true to it's title. Not a band to toot it's own horn, The Growlers are simply comfortable to further reflect on the present state of the world, even as the end approaches. Many die hard fans were shocked when the title track was released, worried that the band had somehow "sold out", or gone for a more pop-friendly venture. Their fears were unfounded, however: The Growlers haven't taken a different road, they've simply gotten more philosophical.