I'd sometimes avoided Guantanamo Baywatch because of the name, not that they didn't charm me musically, but the name just kills me. But hell who cares fun tunes is fun tunes and the band has plenty on their latest, Darling... It's Too Late. Still riding the cusp of surf and sliding down the banister of 50's rock n' roll, the album seeks to replicate the kind of live to tape, out of the guitar and onto the speakers feeling of rock in its dirt caked beginnings. The record does a nice job of pulling from the party pantry and caking it up with a bit of sleaze, the kind that would normally be associated with rock n' roll dirtbags of the half century mark. Everything here feels like it could easily jump into the background of an early John Waters movie, rolling kitsch into hip-shimmy sex appeal and letting the needle drop on a bit of crackle that diffuses the tension. Add in some straight soulful support staff from Curtis Harding and this record has all the fitting touches of a jukebox classic.
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