It’s a formula as old as time — take four Japanese ladies, dress them up in color-coordinated dresses and makeup, and have them play aggressive earworms featuring kawaii harmonies and the lethal precision of a veteran death metal band. And yet somehow Otoboke Beaver rise above the rest of the entrants in this crowded field. Who am I kidding, they are one of a kind, and if you’re not listening to their latest album on repeat, you are missing out on a lot of endorphins.
The reissue of the band’s 2014 cassette debut shows a clear trajectory for this garage-delic outfit that constantly wanders through the dirtiest of musical territories and comes out the other end looking perfectly disheveled.
The screen door banged against the frame of the small building that was once Cisco, Utah’s non-bustling post office. It’s like a ghost town abandoned by the ghosts, mused the cinematographer. Whatever once haunted this place left out of boredom. Meanwhile, the blacksmith methodically tapped the foundation along the perimeter of the building. They had brought the infractometer over from the side-by-side they had arrived in, but sometimes the old ways worked best. The rhythm etched out a Namibian bossanova that had been popular in the ‘70s. The entrance to the silo complex had to be near.
A rollicking ride through rock and roll’s back roads, with fuzzed-out riffing coming on way too loud for the stereo. Good times.
"Screaming Females" is a misnomer. There's only one, and not a whole lot of screaming in "Chamber For Sleep (Part One)".
lacking.org