Peacers

Ah Mike Donovan, you glorious bastard, back again and all is right. That Sic Alps suffered on the periphery of the public consciousness is one of the true musical travesties of our times. Drag City did its best to up the awareness but the band couldn't hold together and alas Donovan's recent solo endeavor of country-fried jams spent not enough time on your turntable as well. Well hell, now's your time to right the wrongs of these many years, as good king Segall is involved and mayhaps this time people will turn their ears the right way. Peacers is built on the same hip-slung acousta-fry that's permeated all Sic Alps' releases and as such, the songs in this set writhe uncomfortably against the itch of their stitches until they pull a thread loose. Leaden with a kind of smoke haze that seemingly has no origin, the record tumbles, albeit with a surprising grace, through fifteen bay-area lost radio transmissions, surfing the ionosphere and catching the bent antennas of those with the right kind of short-wave mind to handle the payload of this eponymous affair. If you're sleeping on this, then all I can say is that I'm sorry for you. Get right with your fuzz gods.

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