Weird Owl: Nuclear Psychology

I expected certain things before ever listening to Weird Owl, with the band name and the prism on the cover you know it's going to be a trippy affair. The name and imagery also conjure a "New Weird America" association with other animal-themed bands and bearded cadres of free rockers.

Those associations don't prove entirely accurate though, Weird Owl play rock that sounds comfortingly familiar, yet never self-consciously obtuse. You could listen to this with your 70s casualty uncle, a cool kid who reads Pitchfork religiously, or a genXer who obsesses over the Sub Pop bands no one's ever heard of and the SST bands that smoked pot and didn't play punk.

The opening chords of the intro track, "Like 100,000 Sunsets" float in all languid and jangly with a melancholy, solemn vibe. The deep vocals on the verse create an early Screaming Trees feel. The tone of the song changes with the chorus, the vocals move to a higher register with reedy, plaintive tones that -- along with the loose, organic feel of the band -- probably account for some of the Crazy Horse comparisons. The song floats out in shades of light, providing a counterpoint to the murk of the early verses.

Over the course of Nuclear Psychology, fuzzed-out power chord eruptions manifest themselves from time-to-time as well as delay swells and organ textures, but the freakout level never approaches sensory overload like that of say Comets on Fire. There are even a few Sabbath inspired stomp sections like the one that wraps up "White Hidden Fire," although this approach fits Weird Owl best when used in extreme moderation.

The guitar sound is treated with reverb, echo and tremolo without going overboard into shoegazer territory. I picture an amp with a few decades behind it along with a few scattered choice pawn-shop pedals. There's some tasteful leadwork but no gratuitous soloing and a nice balance of chiming arpeggios and nasty garage-rock flatulence.

The bass is one of the band's strong facets. Sometimes setting the tone for the song, managing to sound lazy and forceful at the same time, like the intro to "White Hidden Fire." At other times it winds its way in and out of the music appearing in the upper-mid registers before diving back to the bottom.

Weird Owl's strength is that it allows the songs to float along, basking in hazy atmospherics and then surprising you with a chorus that haunts your head.

by Matt McCoy