L.A.Witch

Going against the grains of commerce and defying the heritage industry by releasing revamped demos now (Octubre in November?) instead of in 2030 in DELUXE packaging and REDUX polishing, L.A. Witch fire up a rocket charge of the ear-sockets.

Sade Sanchez’s vocals are not so much sung or even expressed, more wrenched and yanked from the guttural cortex. Cyclically and psychically channelling Mazzy Star’s beguiling Hope Sandoval, Throwing Muses siren Kristin Hersh and on ‘Sleep’ a somnambulant Stevie Nicks these songs comprise a quintet of narco-blisstrionics supplemented by woozy surf guitars, clang-a-lang chords of discord and Spartan skin-thrashing.

Apparently a no-go ode to heroin’s downward spiral tractions, ‘Haunting’ creeps upon you like a tidal wave awash with superlative finger-pickin’ and metronomic drum-banging. Sanchez’s drawled diction decanting of the dead-endism of lumbered slumbering is an advert for sticking to herbal tea. It’s all in vain/in vein.

‘Sleep’ further demonstrates that famed '60s surf-wavers The Ventures never venture far from this sea. Or ocean.

On ‘B.B’s Momma’ there reside the effects of a Chantays haze and with the addition of the keys (replete with a cacophonous piano-no-no … finale), Surfer Rosa-era Pixies. Which is apt.

‘Heart of Darkness’ is a folky novella that whistles 'cross the breeze. Closer ‘Outro’ takes you back through the indoor, a calm stroll back over the recent passage of time.

Whilst not exactly reinventing the wheel they are at least maintaining its rotation. Life’s a beach for this power trio of brio and they’re packing heat.