It's hard to listen to a track that mentions anything about a girl being 18. It immediately can come off as being old dirty creep music reminding me of Poison or really most of the overindulgent hair metal '80s. It's funny now but I don't think those guys had a sense of humor. Five seconds of The Decline of Western Civilization part II is evidence for any midwestern parents. It is still possible to do it like The Platinum Boys who, like Matthew Melton or Natural Child can reference those long hair days of the '70s in a half serious way or better yet like in this track have the girl mentioned not turn out to be some sort of object but a real bad ass.
A-Side's "Candy" opens on a scuzzy blues soul riff bending it's way into the first few seconds that quickly gets whipped into shape having been mined right out of the classic '70s southern rock sound. They take the elements of rock they know, the raw instruments that don't need anything but a loud as hell amp and all the things that have stayed classic. Take those two guitars and bass and drums and do what they were always meant to do. The exact kind of windows down, endless desert miles between tiny bars sound with the entire band singing together like that god damn Allman Brothers. A little bit of a glam rock if glam rose out of the backwoods bar circuit, strictly beer in a can, trucking patches and ripped jean jackets. A trailer park glam sound because they have this sound buttoned up and settle into this massive groove right away riding it down the highway. They're from Milwaukee? This isn't some kind of hilarious put on, they live in those sleeveless T's because they're fucking comfortable.
B-Side's "Wild Child" fades into feedback and some harder living chords, slowly laying things out there for that second guitar to pile on a wailing solo. Coming off like a rowdier bluesy Dead Meadow those drums drop in to help speed things up for the vocal buried out in the backyard of this gritty chord fueled bull. Big room sound on that snare which they highlight by dropping down to nothing for a throaty guitar drop they can't help but repeating. Some of the thickest guitars known to man, drowning everything else out, turned up feels pretty damn good. Bring an amp to the cabin in the woods for this one. When that lyric fades off into the sunset these two guitars pick things up for a Fucking Champs southern synth meltdown sound that has me searching for that full length.
Even if you can't pick up this whole series or cherry pick this record listen to the track below, ballsy american rock at it's best. Full length (which should be purchased based on the cover alone) is SOLD OUT from the boys, but Dusty Medical still has some.
Zzzzzzzzzzz ... Poison > PB
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