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With its Byrds-inpired jangle, harmonized “whoah-oh”s, and overflowing nervous energy, this could very well be an unearthed recording from the liminal era between “new wave” and “alternative”.
If there is one word to describe this latest outing from Kim Salmon, with its droning rumbles, hazy distortion, and proto-punk vibe, it is “menacing”. This is an album you apologize to, maybe buy it a drink to be safe.
It’s not ska, and it’s not rocksteady, but it’s definitely Jamaican and powerfully dancy — you can call it “69 Reggae” after the year of its initial popularity.
A return, and the word to use is "unabated." Their pummeling approach may seem to lack nuance, but it's not about how the punches are landing, it's about the pauses in between that make this measured approach to aggression particularly satisfying.
The guitar and bass strings are vibrating cosmically, the drums eat up the miles, an ethereal chorus swirls about. It's not a new formula, but it's done very well, and if you need to drive for sixty miles without noticing the time go by, here you go.
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