From the defaced ’70s stag-mag pinups pleasuring themselves on the packaging, to the hieroglyphic-lookin’ liner-note type, to the psych-jams-to-nowhere-in-particular, Hoarse Lords
aims to disorient. Ample bass lines jut and wiggle; exploding guitars expel gallons of soaking foam; dim-scum keyboards wistfully pine for Gang Gang Dance, New Order and Indian snake-charmer melodies. Singer Nic Barbeln dumpster-dives into this trash-heap stew, surfacing to roar psychotically through some distorting filter that makes it sound like his voice is coming through a cheap microphone in a broom closet that doubles as a recording studio; somehow, drummer Ray Benjamin valiantly keeps Lords
nailed to the warped floorboards. It’s all very nice and loosey-goosey, but eventually one wants to ask these California dudes whether or not they could be bothered to come up some actual tunes. However, Clipd Beaks could retort that you simply aren’t drunk enough to lodge a objection and shouldn’t be sampling the quartet’s sundries anywhere but smoke-filled bars or earlier than 1 am. They would be right.