Full Album Premiere & Review: Laurel Canyon, Laurel Canyon
Philadelphia’s Laurel Canyon make their self-titled full-length debut on March 31 through Agitated Records. The narrative is murky — which fits, aesthetically, even though the band isn’t — but the 10-song/37-minute offering fuzz-buzzes with immediate swagger on well-placed opening cut “Drop Out,” tapping indie chic screwall with garage rock swing and heavy grunge impulse and a point of view in the vocals and wah-overload of guitarist/bassist Nick Gillespie and guitarist/vocalist Serg Cereja of persistently lacking the fucks that might otherwise be given.
It’s a hard line to walk, let alone have drummer Dylan DePice bash away under the throaty moans of “Madame Hit the Wire” — which may or may not be about prostitution; haven’t seen a lyric sheet, and whoever between Cereja and Gillespie is singing lead, there’s a heroic dose of drawl in the delivery; again, fitting — but Laurel Canyon, though they take their name from the Los Angeles epicenter of 1960s folk-rock/prog exploration, are way more Seattle circa 1989, and on “Drop Out” and side B’s two-minute in-room “Tangiers,” they’ve got the Steve Albini production to prove it, lest we forget dude tracked In Utero, while other songs were helmed by Bryce Goggin, whose massive discography includes work with The Lemonheads, Pavement, earlier and later Swans, among scores of others.
There’s a fair amount happening at any given time, but the will toward rawness is palpable. Don’t take that as indication that the arrangements are unconsidered, as throughout the record Laurel Canyon again and again dare to underscore that kind of fall-asleep-standing-up-or-am-I-nodding-out attitude with solidified (sub) pop structure and accessibility. Not an easy balance to strike, and the fact that “Eczema” brazenly taps “Come as You Are” creeper-verse vibes before its chorus explodes with more of a ’70s Detroit burst and “Tangiers” seems to translate the bassline of “Lithium” to guitar assures that the message gets through.
In 2021, the band issued two startup digital singles, “Two Times Emptiness” and “Enemy Lines,” both of which featured a style more born out of post-punk, but kick enough dirt on it and the shift between those songs and “Daddy’s Honey” — which was the lead track on early-2022’s Victim EP that featured Dylan Loccarini on bass and also featured “Eczema,” “Shove,” “Victim” and “Sade,” all included here, the latter closing — makes a kind of sense in the timeline. If they’re shy about anything, it’s the conscious choice that was inevitably behind the shift in approach, but the sort of full-volume post-Reagan hopelessness in the penultimate “Take Your Cut,” the jangle of guitar there when the distortion isn’t in its more consuming fullness, is the best argument in favor of itself, the trio coming across genuine in having arrived at grunge the way grunge arrived in the first place: punks too lazy or stoned to fit themselves in that genre’s rigid definition reveling in grit and the looking-around-for-the-first-time cynicism of a generation coming of age in an increasingly awful, dying world.
Does it matter that they were maybe-born when Kurt Cobain roamed the earth? Only if you’re an asshole. Relative youth — that is, pre-30 — is an asset across Laurel Canyon, freeing the band to speak to these influences while filling in the inevitable gaps with their own stylistic character, which, thankfully, they do, in the blowout jam of “Victim” and elsewhere. Of the 10 inclusions, “Madame Hit the Wire” and the probably-not-coincidentally-preceding “A Man About Town” and “Take Your Cut” seem to be the only ones not previously released, but the value of having it all in one place isn’t to be understated, even as the march through “Daddy’s Honey,” “Tangiers,” “Shove” and “Take Your Cut” feels all-in on loose-wrist three-chord strum, variously interpreted as it may be with “Shove” letting in a bit more sunlight while “Tangiers” comes through demo-tape barebones and “Take Your Cut” meets wobbly wah with stage-born reverb and feedback, its intensity showing itself in the fact that they’re in and out in under three minutes as much as in the tube-blowing scorch of the finish.
Side A’s primo hooks in “Drop Out,” “A Man About Town,” “Madame Hit the Wire” (also the longest song at 5:33, with due strut), “Eczema” and “Victim” manifest character as well as style, burgeoning individualism of craft alongside deceptively clear, resonant artistic purpose. A reboot disdainful of reboot culture, in some ways at least, the album lends fresh perspective to what was while casually dropping encouraging clues as to what might or could be. The kids — swallowed whole by rampant corporate greed amid mass shootings so normalized they barely register anymore and in a decade still very much with the shadow of plague cast over it — may or may not be alright, but they can write a tune, and they’re only correct to be pissed off, burnt out, and as disillusioned as they seemingly are.
So yeah, punk rock, and likely to be embraced more by arthouse than warehouse for its disposition, but that’s hardly their fault. It’s not a perfect release and if it was it would be wrong, but listening to the shine on that initial guitar of “Drop Out” and the understated tumult that ensues, Laurel Canyon leave little question that they are what they need to be in terms of time, place and attack, playing softer-landing verses and no-kicks-slam-dancing choruses off each other like it’s Reading Festival in 1992, except it’s not that thing and fuck your Gen-X nostalgia anyway. Ultimately, Laurel Canyon has more to say about the future than the past, especially about the band itself, who even as they round out with “Sade” still sound like they’re about to come flying apart. Where does this go 10 years from now, one wonders, since that’s the part of the story that’s never been told before.
And who the hell knows if it’ll be told this time either; universe of infinite possibility and all that. Laurel Canyon can call it quits tomorrow and be done before their first album is even released, but the point here goes beyond their potential or the revivalist aspects of this work. It’s the sense of exploration in the material that makes it exciting, the feeling that the songs — despite being a couple years old — are new to the band as well as to the listener, and with the added intrigue of how they got to where they are sound-wise, the abiding impression is that there’s further they can push it and themselves as they move forward. Here’s hoping.
Laurel Canyon‘s Laurel Canyon is streaming in full below, followed by more info from the PR wire.
Please enjoy:
Strap yourself in people, we have here the debut full length from Philly’s Laurel Canyon; after some online EP releases, and a (now) sold out 7″ with Savage Pencil, Agitated Records is excited to announce the release of their self-titled album! Guitars are drenched in an Asheton worshipping haze and pummel, melded alongside a Velvets chug and mid-to-late 80s Pacific Northwest guttural / primal howl… this is American primitive music at its most powerful. Pigeonholers beware, this album takes its cues from all the most potent places… Funhouse, Loaded, Green River, early Sub Pop, all providing valid reference points.
In amongst this over-amped harmonious murk are 10 visceral and catchy pop songs practically screaming for attention, the core members of Serg, Nick, and Dylan have created a beast of a record.
Some tracks were recorded with Steve Albini, some with Bryce Goggin and all were mastered by Howie Weinberg.
The band played 40 chaotic shows in 2022 alone from New York City to Los Angeles, where they opened for Agent Orange and Strawberry Alarm Clock on two separate occasions at the Whisky a Go Go.
Laurel Canyon are:
Nicholas Gillespie – guitar, bass, vocals
Serg Cereja – guitar, vocals
Dylan DePice – drums
Ha, most of the signifiers you’ve put on this one are things that make me shy away, but did enjoy the Headsy, uk-noisy aspect of this one. Maybe I should pay a bit more attention to the ‘indy shit’ that pops up here.
When it comes to the death-doom I’d rather Goblinsmoker ;-)