Weisstronauts

Listening to this Boston-area instrumental group and their ultra-twangy vintage surf and hop meets Parson's-era Byrds and Sadies rock gives the sensation of cruising on a Pacific coastal highway in a time machine, going through the decades that go in threes — the ’30s, with its swing, the ’60s with its psych and the ’90s with its power. The approach and dedicated craftsmanship from these closet renegade musicians is true indeed, while not trying to make the production sound purposely dated — instead, full hi-fidelity technology and "the force” is implemented — it's clear and strong enough that even dogs and the deaf can hear every micron of steel of the guitar strings and banjos being grazed and adulterated by the picks. It's so authentic in fact, that it's almost surreal — like going to that retro restaurant in Pulp Fiction and having this album play in the jukebox, while you overdose on the most sugar-filled vintage shake or soda you've ever had in your life, all combined into one. And, just when you thought that insulin injection you gave yourself would balance you out to mortal safety, you discover (when it's too late) that you accidentally gave yourself LSD-25 instead. This album is a trip of all trips!