For some reason the city of Long Beach, California always makes me think of beach shacks, Sex Wax and surfer dudes living the life everyone is envious of. But Long Beach natives Crystal Antlers have obliterated the generalisation I had about Americas 35th largest city. Now I think of every Long Beacher as an acid-poppin freakazoid that can play the guitar at the same temperature as the sun.
The first thing to know is their manic percussionist is named Sexual Chocolate, a name he oddly enough shares with two bands (one in Eddie Murphys Coming to America, and Alanis Morissettes backing band, believe it or not), a cricketer, wrestler/weightlifter Mark Henry, and a Hot Chip song. But I digress. Another must-know titbit is that Crystal Antlers arent the lovechildren of any of these bands: 13th Floor Elevators, Brainiac, Comets On Fire or Six Finger Satellite, but they sure as shit sound like they were birthed from a massive, sweaty, amphetamine-fuelled orgy featuring those bands and five of the raddest girls who ever walked the planet.
I hate getting all imaginary in describing this band, but the imagery they inspire in this one track, let alone their psych-classic-in-the-making self-titled EP, is boundless: Andrew Kings guitar shooting purple lasers, Victor Rodriguezs radioactive organs glowing with toxic beauty, Sexual Chocolate and Kevin Stuart spinning their 16 arms like possessed windmills, and Jonny Bell stabbing his bass while he breathes fire into the melting mic.
Crystal Antlers "Until the Sun Dies Part 2
The first thing to know is their manic percussionist is named Sexual Chocolate, a name he oddly enough shares with two bands (one in Eddie Murphys Coming to America, and Alanis Morissettes backing band, believe it or not), a cricketer, wrestler/weightlifter Mark Henry, and a Hot Chip song. But I digress. Another must-know titbit is that Crystal Antlers arent the lovechildren of any of these bands: 13th Floor Elevators, Brainiac, Comets On Fire or Six Finger Satellite, but they sure as shit sound like they were birthed from a massive, sweaty, amphetamine-fuelled orgy featuring those bands and five of the raddest girls who ever walked the planet.
I hate getting all imaginary in describing this band, but the imagery they inspire in this one track, let alone their psych-classic-in-the-making self-titled EP, is boundless: Andrew Kings guitar shooting purple lasers, Victor Rodriguezs radioactive organs glowing with toxic beauty, Sexual Chocolate and Kevin Stuart spinning their 16 arms like possessed windmills, and Jonny Bell stabbing his bass while he breathes fire into the melting mic.
Crystal Antlers "Until the Sun Dies Part 2
