Acid Baby Jesus

Some days you wake up and think, "yeah it its time for another album from Acid Baby Jesus". Well maybe you don't wake up and think that, but I do. Slovenly wraps us a new batch from Greece's favorite sons, and its just as wonky a collection of psych addled garage and cigarette burnt pop froth as their first. Divining creepy vibes from the center of the rotted soul, the band pounds out the kind of psych squelch that creeps slow up the neck, settling into the hypothalamus and taking root like an insidious tumor. They've found the formula for evil and dipped it in a coating of garage that's more exhaust fumes and packed tar than flash glamour and hip swagger. Plenty of bands know how to make you move but very few know how to make you move six rows back to avoid your gaze, and that's where ABJ bring their expertise. The Grecian foursome instill the kind of pit of the stomach bad vibes that make you back slowly out of a room, only to end up in a back alley full of greaser punk, full blown and fuming. Resist the dread and just embrace the weird negativity wafting off of the amp stacks. It’s easier to give in than to fight. That's the beauty of "Selected Recordings," its a jukebox of acid reflux regrets that make you hungry for more.

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