Wooden Indian Burial Ground: (Self-Titled) LP [Album]

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This is the perfect music to drink to. It can even make Pabst taste good (you know you hate the taste of Pabst, hipsters, or have you moved on to another cheap alternative?) This is the music that should be playing in every house party on the wrong side of the tracks. I imagine it’s no coincidence that this Portland band’s name is a reference to the wooden indian sold by infamous Portland crimp, Bunko Kelly to a ship captain, which was angrily cast overboard when the ship captain couldn’t wake his wooden crewman. I hope that was intentional, but if it is coincidence, then the rock ‘n’ roll gods have blessed them with a great name.

Regardless of their name, WIBG has found a perfect formula/dynamic between it’s four members to make some of the best psychedelic garage rock ‘n’ roll that is out there right now. Everything from the “whoops” or “yips” or whatever the hell the singer yells at least once in almost all of their songs, to the violent use of guitars smothered in fuzz and reverb and that perfect vintage sound, to the creepy organ played masterfully and always placed in the right spots,this band plays psychedelic rock ‘n’ roll exactly how it should be played; loud, loose, and free, as if it’s all about to just fall apart. Many have tried to walk the fine line between garage rock and just sloppy bullshit, and most have failed. Not Wooden Indian Burial Ground. You can tell that each of them has the musical chops to exceed the expectations of an indie “garage” band.

Their latest self-titled release, out October 4th on Mon Amie Records, is an 8 song trip that feels much longer than only 35 minutes. That being said, it is very well condensed. At no point on this record did the psychedelic break-downs last too long. In other words, you’re not left wondering, “what the hell are they doing?” or, “why are they still milking the feedback?”. WIBG brings you down into it, then pulls you back up out of it just in time. There really isn’t a boring spot on this record. It really is ALL good, from the balls-to-the-walls opener, “Helicopter”, to the marching cadence of “Waltz for Eldritch”, to the dark and tremendous guitars of “Bryant St. Death Cult”. For me, though, nothing beats “Sparklerella”. Complete with a female background chorus reminiscent of zombie prom cheerleaders, the “signature” screams that you’ll notice in other WIBG songs, insane guitar work, and a stellar organ solo that is the perfect length, that song has it all; including a few “whoops”, of course. It’s enough to make a sober man sway and stagger like a drunkard.

Check this band out in Portland on Friday, Nov. 2 @ Doug Fir.  http://woodenindianburialground.bandcamp.com/album/wooden-indian-burial-ground-3

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