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If this band were actual woods, they would be filled with fog swirling in sunlight, sparkling yet tenebrous, a distant falsetto clearly audible inside your ear as the leaves are chiming in the light.
I don’t know why I want to call this sound “California country”, when it’s not from California nor is it truly country, but its twangy aroma and psychedelic coloring are probably a big reason why.
When you make pop psychedelia with an exotic yet indeterminate element, you end up with the musical soundtrack to a children’s television show from an alternate reality.
No denying this band exists in a dual space of Gen X ridicule and genuine nostalgia. The new album is filled with the same sunny indie-rock wink-and-grin disposition that rightfully earned them the title, broadcasting into/from the airwaves of 1994.
One final challenge awaits: swim through the Reservoir of Bliss, filled with honey, liquid moonlight, and endorphins, then dance in slow motion across the infra-disco, as BRONCHO's underwater guitar syrup and whispered falsetto choruses are playing.
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