Keen observers of our fair website may recall my hard-cool excitement over Richard Swift gone garage a long five years ago. It’s a trend I’ve continued to tail from a host of regional acts all hammering out three chords in grungy basements and dusty backyards, all trying to recapture an era none of us lived in but have read much about. Maybe we’ve even bought a few dog-eared records from yard sales and pawn shops. It has led me to the Drunken Draculas (or them to me, if you will). It’s a twisty, half-played mess of vibrant bass, oaken vocals and silly monster references (“The Tranny was a Zombie,” “Old Ass Troll,” “Dracula Stole My Gal”). All two minute blisters that begged to be popped so the 60s ooze all over your boil covered body. If you found this during a bin (dumpster?) dive, you’d be holding a classic that never existed. As it stands, 2013 is the year of half-assed garage rock and you know you’ve been waiting for it. No more outer space zones and intricate geometric trigonometry bullshit. Just guys and gals in small confines beating and strumming and strumming and smoking and smoking and blistering. It’s been prophesied in these very pages. The little critters of nature, they don’t know that they’re ugly…
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