All bass rumble, espionage sax, 
deranged yelps n howls, Ariel Pink’s long-player rolls into action like a soundtrack to Thomas Pynchon’s ‘Inherent Vice’; a stoner noir set during the sun-kissed but paranoid days after the Manson murders, but before his trial – when suddenly the hippies didn’t seem so innocent. Caught between the psychosis and the psychedelia, the madness and the beauty, of sounds gone-by, the gonzo riffs and off-kilter grooves recall the comic sinisterisms of the Residents, the warped psychedelia of the 13th Floor Elevators, and the pervy pop of the Archies, all a swirl in a cocktail of colours shaken inside your own skull. An experimental mash-up thrilling in its inventiveness and often verging on delirium, ‘Butt-House Blondies’ finds its guitars rise and crash like waves, its San-Fran vibes corrupted pagan as ‘Paint It Black’, while ‘Little Wig’ deserves its very own dance-craze. The reverb-drenched psycho-surf and westcoast harmonies haze the senses, spiked elsewhere by Studio 54 rhythms and Scarface synths (‘Beverly Kills’), reclining beside surreal soul jams that stumble on the right side of pastiche (‘Can’t Hear My Eyes’). To hear how a band of so many influences can sound so unique, download ‘L’Estat’ and be amazed.
Mesmeric three piece A Grave With No Name have slowly and steadily been building a reputation for themselves as one of the most adventurous and captivating bands we have at the moment, folding layers of distortion and noise into fragile melodies and wistful, heartbreaking lyricism to create a sound uniquely their own. Their forthcoming debut, “Mountain Debris”, released on No Pain in Pop, is a testament to their brittle beauty, collecting together long sold out singles and EP’s and never before heard recordings to form a cohesive, albeit deeply haunting, whole.
