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Woods w/ Lavender Flu

  • 8:00pm Friday, July 22, 2016

WOODS

"Woods have always been experts at distilling life epiphanies into compact chunks of psychedelic folk that exists just outside of any sort of tangible time or place. Maybe those epiphanies were buried under cassette manipulation or drum-and-drone freakouts, or maybe they were cloaked in Jeremy Earl's lilting falsetto, but over the course of an impressive eight albums, Woods refined and drilled down their sound into City Sun Eater in the River of Light, their ninth LP and second recorded in a proper studio. It's a dense record of rippling guitar, lush horns, and seductive, bustling anxiety about the state of the world. It's still the Woods you recognize, only now they're dabbling in zonked out Ethiopian jazz, pulling influence from the low key simmer of Brown Rice, and tapping into the weird dichotomy of making a home in a claustrophobic city that feels full of possibility even as it closes in on you. City Sun Eater in the River of Light is concise, powerful, anxious—barreling headlong into an uncertain, constantly shifting new world." -Sam Hockley-Smith

THE LAVENDER FLU

The Lavender Flu is Chris Gunn (Hunches/Hospitals), Scott Simmons (Helen/Eat Skull), Lucas Gunn (the Blimp), and Ben Spencer (Hunches). They have just released a debut double lp on the MEDS record label. The album is a 30 song maze / map with no exits. Like Big Star reimagined by Royal Trux or Meat Puppets repurposed by Brian Eno. The band sounds familiar yet unique. Inside and outside. Comfortably homeless. 

A group that dared to confront the dilated pupils of the Bobby Problem in search of that elusive "Heavy Air" sound; the Lavender Flu looks forwards, backwards, and sideways. They rule the adult rock circuit with an overdose of chamomile and a touch of grey. Fuck the purists, the nostalgists, and the genre concentration camps. You know you have to take off your heavy metal jacket, your bullet belt, or your techno shades sometimes. Your uniform means nothing here. Adult rock has no limits. The Lavender Flu has no scene. Put on your socks AND Tevas. No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.
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