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This takes McCartney’s third “fine, I’ll do it all myself” effort and delivers it into some surprising and very capable hands, a diverse roster of artists who take these McCartney songs and fumble nary a one.
What this band brings to the mainly-instrumental surf guitar disco potluck is exactly what you'd expect a band invited to the MISGDP to bring, but let's be honest for a minute: we don't ever want to run out.
The Texas trio returns with their very specific blend of surf, psychedelia, and exotic spice, but this time around they’ve dropped the “instrumental” part by adding gloriously subdued vocalizations to some of the tracks.
Trent Reznor delivers more biting digial/analog fusion, with dark synth pads abetted by darker guitar tones.
Your Jack is a trailer-park poet singing his life into your answering machine, backed with a stripped-down bluesy combo. You will laugh, you will cry, you will sing about sweet countertop love, you will want to give the bass player a goddamn medal.
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