We should know better. We really should. When Well Dressed Records sends an album featuring three of the lost children signed to their label then we should have expected something a bit challenging. Combining Krestovsky, Cincinnati Elite and The Agrarians on one album verges on the irresponsible. Armed only with the courage supplied with a bottle of tequila, Bluesbunny headed off into battle.
Now, Bluesbunny knows The Agrarians well. The lo-fi terrors emanating from the mind of Matt Perzinski snap at you. Those bizarre lyrics - "… the center of your thighs, the place we call God's eye" from "Children of the Light". I think I know what that means and I even laughed (somewhat nervously) whilst trying to explain it to someone. There's hiss and hum everywhere - "CopyCat Seize Reel Killing" starts off with such obvious hum problems that it has to be deliberate especially when you take the discordant vocals and distracted guitar into the equation - but that just adds to the atmosphere. A rather unsettling atmosphere at that. The work of druids, perhaps. You try putting The Agrarians in a category!
Krestovsky has crossed the threshold at Bluesbunny Towers before as well. His tracks on this album seem different and altogether more commercial and one of them is quite frankly stunning. Didn't see it coming at all - it just broke free from the speakers. I speak of "Local Dive", of course. It sounds like a hellish cross between Californian folk rock and The Band driven along by an entrancing brass arrangement. But it just soars and would surely find a home on the soundtrack of a proper road movie like Vanishing Point. He returns to his normal downbeat form with "A New Death" but still manages to sound so much bigger than ever before.
The tequila is hitting hard now and the Cincinnati Elite are new to the Bluesbunny. They actually sound like a tight band. Maybe they survived the sixties or something like that. I should check their bio but I am scared to turn the lights on. Musically, they show considerable polish. Bizarre lyrics abound but they sound like they all managed to attend rehearsals. "I've Grown Handsome in My Late Twenties" has all the appeal of psychedelic rock and, if there were a prize for oddball song titles, then "1831 (We Dance as Baptist Warriors)" would be a serious contender.
None of the songs here could really be classed as mainstream. Lyrically, most of the songs are just way out there. Then again, there is only so much Kylie that a man can take before he needs a change. And only so much tequila. The bottle is nearly empty now and "Local Dive" is getting played again. You might well end up confused, irritated or intrigued by the songs from these bands but Krestovsky's "Local Dive" is worth the price of admission. Wondrous!