Drug Cabin (Noah)

April 8, 2015


As of late, I’ve been skating on the thin ice of becoming an aged hipster who no longer wanted to indulge in new bands. I was happy with my reissued, obscure soul records, and my spirited defense of bands from the 90s that nobody, not a single person, gives a shit about. New music had synths, new music had people looking like the lead singer of the Two Princes guys, new music was a gaping, coked-out hole, that I wanted in no part to start futzing around in. In the last few months though, I’ve either thrown off the shackles of my mid-life crisis (or whatever you call it when you’re 33 and suddenly struck by the fact that you no longer like anything or anyone and want to move to the mountains and read esoteric essays about Juggalos and cry) or music has just been awfully excellent lately, because I find myself day-in-and-day-out actually indulging whole albums by new artists. And before you stop reading because, as John calls it, I’m “rambling” let’s get to one of those new artists – Drug Cabin.

I’m breaking the mold here and writing about an LA-based musical group, but these guys are particularly excellent and San Francisco is struggling through some sort of post-garage rock morose and hasn’t put out a band I truly love since 2009. That said, Drug Cabin, oh Drug Cabin is like if Devendra Barnhart sat down one sunny afternoon and decided to just mellow out a little bit with all the crazy, all the Natalie Portman, all the long hair and weird ribbons tied into it. It’s got that twang of surreality though, right there in the cracks between the sort of Steely Dan guitar licks and smoothed out vocals, but the boys of Drug Cabin reign it in a little bit, so instead of just losing ourselves in a fog of silly, the listener can sort of lay out on the beach blanket of sonic cool and relax. It’s like an earnest amount of psychedelia, like your buddy who does mushrooms but doesn’t want to go galavanting around the woods with his dick out, he just wants to sit on a roof and watch the sun set and talk about undercover cops and how when you’re high sometimes it’s like every thought you have is being typed by a typewriter. Well, that said, Drug Cabin – really good stuff.

:Drug Cabin – Beverly Glen:

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