Sweaty Magic

By Anand Balasubrahmanyan November 5, 2009


During Holiday Shores brief quiet moments you can see the band fidgeting—restless for when they can slam their distortion pedals and rock out. It's pretty great. The Tallahassee five piece gets the most out of their youthful exuberance, using blown out amps and walkie-talkie shrieks to perfectly capture the amateur passion of doing it yourself. For them the punk ethos isn't “Fuck you” it's “Fuck yeah!”

The band takes a lot of what's popular in indie rock right now and distorts the hell out of it. “Phones Don't Fued” goes with a shambling guitar line reminiscent of tour mates Evangelicals and roughs it up with shitty reverb pedals. “Golden Throat” is an ecstatic mess of sneering synths and head-bang guitar riffs—loud, sloppy and uncompromising. It sounds like Grizzly Bear if they stuck closer to their namesake and stole themselves some pic-a-nik baskets.

Their best track, “Crime Isn't Our Problem” is a a boozy waltz that trashes it's own dorm room. Live it would need two drummers playing it's rabid rhythm simultaneously to capture it's sweaty magic.

Cymbals crash, guitars swoon and by the end, Holiday Shores tumble into your arms, unshaven and drunk, and flash an utterly charming grin. What can you do? You just have to smile back.

Holiday Shores plays the Vera Project on Friday November 6th with Evangelicals

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