The Warlocks

There are certain genres that don't change. They're happy right where they are. Pigeonholed is as pigeonholed does. Among these musical staples are the rotating faces of bubblegum tween-pop, mariachi bands and psychedelic stoner rock—and Los Angeles' The Warlocks are the latter genre's official house band. However, on their new, eight-song album, Heavy Deavy Skull Lover, it seems as though the band have lost a little steam, trading sexed-up drone for psych-rock-by numbers, adding layers of feedback and reverb simply because that's what bands like them do.

With the second track (the epic, but ultimately forgettable "Moving Mountains") clocking in at over ten minutes, it's clear The Warlocks have gotten a case of TBJMD, The Brian Jonestown Massacre Disease. Like BJM's notorious four-hour-plus live sets, The Warlocks Heavy Deavy songs are sewn together by self-indulgent interludes full of reverb, feedback and other indistinguishable buzzing that acts as filler for the moments where there should be melody—even The Jesus and Mary Chain had that.

That's not to say that there aren't moments of originality on Heavy Deavy , however. Album opener, "The Valley of Death," begins with a mesmerizing guitar riff that sounds like it was played on a harp with bass strings, accompanied by an intoxicating nasal falsetto from frontman Bobby Hecksher that makes you feel like all the lights in your home just got replaced with red bulbs. "Zombie Like Lovers," another highlight, sees the band working a signature dirge-like melody until it snowballs into a sonic crescendo.

The Warlocks' have thrived on earlier albums when they've relied on their own ingenuity: 2005's Surgery even saw the band dip into '50s-inspired pop à la The Raveonettes. In the grand, druggy tradition of this genre, maybe this album is just a comedown—and after a couple hits of methadone The Warlocks will be back to being part of a movement and not its mascot.

—Danielle Allaire
10.26.07

After losing their deal with Mute Records because of Surgery's initial lack of success, the West Coast neo-psych stoner rockers' long, strange trip was nearly at an end. Fortunately, longtime allies Brian Jonestown Massacre came through for the guys, encouraging their label, Tee Pee Records, to add the Warlocks to its roster. Looser than their prior label, their new home enabled the Warlocks to record Heavy Deavy Skull Lover at their leisure under the guidance of Rod Cervera, who recorded their first record. As on each of their other albums, new territories are explored and musical influences have changed significantly. There are still hints of Spacemen 3 and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, but now the focus of the project is gloomy shoegaze that conjures up images of the Swirlies on bad brown acid. Part of the reason for this is that the band has been whittled down to half of its size, and now the power dual-drummer setup is gone. Where they were once thunderous, now they sound fragile. Also, trippiness has replaced melody, and when eight songs are elongated for nearly 60 minutes, it can seem like an eternity. "The Valley of Death" disappears into "Moving Mountains," which stretches out over ten minutes with several head-fakes and suggested endings, eventually building to a fiery climax that results in the album's peak moment and prettiest song, "So Paranoid," a creamy mock-Jesus and Mary Chain swirl. If only the entire album were this strong. At times, druggy pretension saturates the concept, and the band favors overly artistic choices like the inclusion of "Interlude in Reverse," a song that didn't sound proper in its original state, so it's played backwards. Sorting through the rambling murk can seem like an unreasonable chore for the listener, but the bleak, angry guitar buzzsaws can make those forgiving moments of relief that much more rewarding. The moment at just past the three-minute mark of "Slip Beneath," when the vocals finally bleed into the foreground, is sheer exquisiteness, but the jarring vehemence of the song directly after may make you reach for the fast-forward button. As uneven as the experience is, the album probably makes most sense in its entirety, but listening straight through can be an exercise in endurance. You'll only try this once or twice, though. After that, you'll be searching through to find your favorites. ~ Jason Lymangrover, All Music Guide