I realize
the theory I’m about to pose isn’t going to change anything we know about the universe,
but let me go for it anyway: we decide whether or not we like a band based on
our first experience with said band. This is, as you might imagine, based on
zero research; it just seems right.
I’ve never been talked into liking a band that I’d originally disliked, and I’ve
never successfully talked anyone into liking a band that they wouldn’t have otherwise
liked. This theory could be less “theory” and more “personal opinion/obvious
observation,” but I’m not going to test it, so we’ll never know.
The reason I’m
discussing this is because I’m listening to an EP called Washing Machines by a band called Washing Machines. They describe
themselves as a five-piece “dank rock and roll” band from L.A. If you tell me
you’ve heard of them, you’re lying. If you tell me you know what they mean when
they call themselves a “dank rock and roll” band, you’re lying. I can use the
term “dank” to describe other, entirely different types of Californian exports, but it doesn't seem accurate enough as a description of a musical genre.
But you’re
reading this for the music, not to hear me discuss what “dank” may or not mean.
The music is raw. That is probably the best word to describe it. Describing their
music as raw is another example of a statement that won’t exactly cause any
disturbances within Earth’s inner core, but it does bring me back nicely to my
original theory: had my original experience with this band taken place in an
old, dark, musty (read: dank) club, I would’ve listened to this album and
judged it based on what I already knew about them from having seen them live. That hypothetical review would've been a lot more glowing and a lot less skeptical, but as I don’t often get the chance to fly out to L.A., I can only evaluate them based on the few things I know about them:
Washing Machines features an illustration of a bikini-clad woman with a camel toe on
the cover and it’s available for digital download for $3. Therefore, this
unpolished, garage-grunge sound they’ve cultivated sounds good but it’s nothing
entirely special. It’s like their album cover and inexpensive asking price
implies: good, but cheap fun.
This is not
an indictment on the band; their blend of screaming, frenzied guitars and
scratchy, throaty vocals bring to mind Merchants, one of our local favorites.
So when I call their sound good but not entirely special, it has more to do
with circumstances and less to do with talent: I’m listening to them in my
apartment in Buffalo and they are playing clubs in L.A. Newer, up-and-coming bands
sound better in person than they do coming out of my speakers. Anybody will
tell you that; I’m not trying to be a garbage dick.
Which brings
me to one of the highlights of the album: the 5th track, “Garbage
Dick.” It’s a six minute long descent into madness; if one song on the album
captures the way a sock actually feels as it tumbles around in a washing
machine it has to be “Garbage Dick.” But the best song on the album is the third
track, “Before She Came,” which deftly balances melody and mayhem and has the
best chance of becoming the catalyst responsible for bringing Washing Machine’s
music to a club in Buffalo.
I imagine a
lot of local, loyal fans campaigning for Washing Machine’s ascent to the top of
the Billboard charts, or at the very least the tenth spot, which as of this
writing is occupied by a tribute to John Denver. I’ll be campaigning for them
silently and from afar; as it stands right now, their music would benefit from
the element of personal experience which is something I haven’t had a chance to
feel.
Grade: B-
.Really look forward to get the best of washing machine reviews, I went for IFB washing machine and I tell you what, I was really driven by reading ifb washing machine reviews online. So, really feel like checking this ...