Wounded Lion

You might not quite recover from Brad Eberhard’s awkward, gangling
vocal or Wounded Lions’ equally haphazard brand of skinned, fuzzy
garage pop but you won’t switch off either.

Well, not straight away.
The Los Angeles band’s debut is as rough around the edges as a halfchewed hobnob but somewhere, battling away, is a Pavement kind of pretty.

Dirty, dishevelled and likely to sound the exact same whether
they’d played in your front room or a proper venue, ‘Wounded Lion’
is rife with intent, even if it’s grunted, mumbled and absently
warbled for the duration of the album.

When they do pull it together, though, tracks like ‘Carol
Cloud’ and closer ‘Silver People’

hastily and filthily tailspin into their own Marshall dirge and it makes you wonder what took them so long to warm up, moments before to you realised you don’t care.
Oddly endearing

“We don’t know any of them, not that particular scene,” says Ripley “but I think, and I don’t want to speak too generally about this sort of thing, but I think some people are going for a spontaneity and amateurishness there, which has a kind of vibrancy to it.

Another thing I would say is that a lot of those no-fi sort of bands come
from a pop perspective – a lot of times I hear pop songs underneath all the noise. Well, we’re not really about pop at all; we’re more about the repetition and the trance and the drone.

We’ll have a song in there somewhere but as little as possible – Heheheh! The song kind of com

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