L.A.'s Mystic Braves follow up their album from last year with another sun-spackled garage rocker that seems to channel hazy beach vibes from '68-'71, sucking salt air and keeping things generally low key in a very West Coast way. The band fits in well with contemporaries The Allah-Las but they tend to lean on the warble of organ more heavily than that pack. The album is pretty much bursting with California charms, from the surf strums and low slung jangles to the stabs of cantina horns that fleck "Valley Rat." They work off of those tip of the tongue, edge of the ear type of tracks that feel familiar (partly because, yes indeed they tread some well worn garage rock ground) but it feels grown up into itself, not merely reveling in the pastiche and dress up of 60's styles. Desert Island is a scant thirty-five minutes and easily one of those albums whose last notes ring in your ear just right, leaving the tone arm begging to be racked back to the beginning.
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