Secret Colours – Self-Titled Album Review

Now the obvious critique I’m sure most people would offer in regards to a band like Chicago’s Secret Colours would be: lack of originality, plain and simple. But since this is tasty psych/garage stuff, I’m not even going to waste my time with any of that bullshit. If your idea of a party involves “LSD, Ecstasy, and DMT” (I’m quoting the lyrics here) rather than say, getting plowed on Coors Light and watching UFC, you’ll probably groove on this, even though you’ve kind of heard it before.

Sometimes execution can trump innovation, and when I throw this on, the expertly blissed out arrangements probe their way right into my temporal lobe and send me off to the land of celestial orange sunshine. It’s a happy place with sandy beaches and telepathic one-eyed sex goddesses begging me inwardly to, “Ride on the backs of the owls.” But maybe that’s just my trip. I bet these dudes ride like classy old convertibles around the cosmos searching for space ‘tang. You’ll find it, bros; its right around the corner. They’ve got the champagne on ice.

Wait, what the fuck was I rambling on about there? Oh yeah, spacing out listening to this shit. Ground control to Major Tom. What is it about guitar fuzz? Some of these songs could go on forever, and it wouldn’t bug me much. I guess I could dig on some more electronic bleeps and blorps here and there to shake things up, but other than that, this shit is solid. Solid gold.

Listen to “Love” – DOWNLOAD MP3


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11 years ago

They’re all that and more John. Although the six-armed guy with hookahs in each hand is powerful imagery within my temporal….commencing countdown, engines on.

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