For My Animals if the third album by American Culture and was recorded before the pandemic hit and changed the whole world let alone American Culture, as seen through the eyes of Chris Adolf and his band mates, who hope that the sort of Indie DIY culture they are a part of can survive the pandemic and other recent shifts in how America perceives and acts in its own skin.
The Album opens with Silence a song that starts off sounding like classic English indie tune until the vocals come in and then it's sort of like a cross between The Jazz Butcher and A Certain General with a very familiar bass line that feel sought of Byrds like, the sort of song you'll hear different influences in every time you hear it.
For My Animals is a Half Japanese style garage rocker that sounds like someone is playing with the tape speed in places and the vocals have the feel of being recorded in a closet.
No Peace has at its core a central recorder or bass flute that moves around the speakers and all sorts of odd stuff going on, as all the reasons he has no Peace unfold, in the strange and disconcerting world that American Culture had made into reality in the last few months. He has lost her love for certain and offering her an Orange Juice will not win her back anytime soon.
Small Talk is urgent garage rock with semi buried vocals and fizzing guitars while they sound like they like Small Talk more than Bauhaus did.
Pedals opens like they want to be The Who before the vocals come in and it becomes a twee indie ode to all the Pedals they like to push. You can then argue over which pedals they use on the guitar solo and what channel is pressed when it all goes wild.
Lude Dub is like Augustus Pablo shot through the prism of The Terrorists for a very short Dub interlude. Losing My Mind is a quick dash of indie pop wistfulness for the mind that's been lost and the love they wish they still had very much in a Weather Prophets style.
I Like American Music has a slack dub edge to it, as they tell us how much they like American Music while not sounding like a bunch of flag waving assholes as the mighty guitar solo does all sorts of crazy horse style things, this has a psychedelic floppy fringe sound to it.
Drug Dealers House almost feels like your climbing the stairs in a brownstone hoping you won't get ripped off and they'll have what you need, as the dealer makes you wait and wait for what you want and think you need, the music feels like they are clucking and twitching trying to stay focused and persuade the dealer to just let them have the drugs and go and not have to listen to any more Roky Erikson bootlegs or to discuss why you don’t love the Grateful Dead as much as the dealer does.
1972 opens with some keyboards and percussion and has none of the glam stomp that year had for me as a 7 year old, but then London was very different to American Culture back then, this has some glorious guitar and close vocals, so put on your platform shoes and make sure your collars fly away and drink it all in.
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Horoscopes is bass led rumble into predictions and who they want to get to the astral plain. The vocals ask all sorts of questions normally asked by Horoscope obsessed women while trying to chat someone up, would you give them the answers and would those answers satisfy and get you to the next level, well this dreamy and persistent tune may help you decide.
Here She Comes sounding like any number of early 90's British indie bands trying to sound like The Pixies and not quite getting how to be that strange and odd, this almost pulls it off, it's weird and odd enough that it would have sounded good as a bonus song on Black Francis recently re-issued Oddballs album.
Lude Dub 2 leads straight into Dub For Eagles and both have a sort of Augustus Pablo meets King Tubby uptown feel to it, hazy good times dub.
The album closes with Natural Violence which seems to be a theme song for American Culture during the last few years and a portent of what has happened in the year or so since this was recorded. This feels like what happens with people think they have the right to have access to guns all the time. I love the wonky guitars wailing into the void.
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