You think you know what you’re in for when “Boy You Need Jesus,” the opening track of Bastard Love Child of Rock ‘n Roll’s debut EP, BimBom, erupts with its frenzied delirium of cymbals and slide guitar, vaguely psychedelic vocals that echo like strange voices from the other side of a canyon at night, and a blast of organ that brings it all home with such aplomb you actually wonder if that’s Augie Meyers on the stool.
You think it’s a young band that’s listened to lots of early Zeppelin and White Stripes, digs the stream-of-consciousness abandon of a Neil Young guitar solo, and actually knows what they mean when they toss around terms like “Psychedelia”—that it’s a sacred and glittering temple inhabited by the likes of Moby Grape, The Seeds, or Quicksilver Messenger Service, and not the sorry crutch it’s become for big-label bands groping for any hip cloak to dress their music in.
You would think these things—and on all accounts you would be right. But you also would be tempted to believe that you’ve just surmised the extent of all this Florida duo has to offer—that they’re a pair of young rockers flicking on their lighters at the altar of the long-gone bands they worship, and that’s that. And you would be wrong. Dead wrong.
“Boy You Need Jesus” fades into the second track’s galactic freak-out of synths that sound like a chorus of crying ghosts. One can hear Pink Floyd’s Rick Wright shaking his head in his grave, muttering “Why didn’t I ever think of that!?” The track plays with all the gusto that its epiphanic title promises–“Hallelujah I’ve Been BLORRN Again,” it’s called–and it keeps I Monster’s “Hey Mrs.” chained to the kitchen sink of its ambition, only without the predictability and polish that those beat masters bring to their club-quaking trip-hop.
Several tracks on BimBom play like many songs packaged into one. It’s no secret that most debut EPs document the sound of a young band on the verge of discovering the identity they’re searching for, and, in a way, BimBom is no exception. The opener’s conventional blues-rock with a hankering for psychedelia gives way to that gorgeous, psych-synth weirdness of “Hallelujah”; “Seven Sisters,” the track for which the band recently completed the video above, calls to mind the haunting soundscape with which Led Zeppelin’s “In The Evening” begins; the shuffling, jazzy licks and percussion of “My Blushing Grape” or “My Poor Delisa” would make just as much sense on some lost Sade record; and the blistering romper “Booty Making Mama Shakin'” glazes its anthemic riffs in a coating of space rock.
“Booty Makin” raises hell with more of the gloriously snotty licks these guys delight in one minute, and dims the lights with the jangling flutters of guitar that call the whole thing softly home the next. The EP is at once bipolar and measured, as self-contained as it is likely to burst. It’s tempting to suggest that Adam Winn and Chris Hess, the brainchildren behind BLORR who prefer the stage names “Cookie Sugarhips” and “Hot Damn Sweet Huckleberry Winn,” have more ideas than they know what to do with, as the record radiates in all directions at once like some sonic solar storm. But by the time the hammering percussion and piercing guitars of its dreamy closer wrap these nine tracks in their fluorescent ribbon, you hear at last the cohesive vision that’s sewn these songs together all along–a vision as committed to looking back at the pioneers that made it possible as it is to thrusting into the future whose road they paved.
This is no typical EP that meanders through a grab-bag of sounds in the hope that something sticks; this is the work of a band that knows what it wants to do and isn’t afraid to do it. And if these nine tracks prove anything for sure, it’s that they’re having a hell of a lot of fun in the meantime.