Even in the outlier context of Fatso Jetson releases overall, the band’s sixth album, Archaic Volumes, is an outlier. But damn it’s a hooky outlier. The long-running Palm Desert/Los Angeles desert rock stalwarts — they of the generator parties, they of the haven desert venue Rhythm and Brews, much heralded and yet somehow still underrated as a live act, and so on — went nine years between full-lengths. The mid/late ’90s saw a bang-bang-bang-bang succession of albums in their 1995 debut, Stinky Little Gods and 1997’s Power of Three — both on Greg Ginn‘s SST Records — as well as 1998’s Toasted (discussed here) on Bong Load and 1999’s Flames for All on Man’s Ruin, and even as that label collapsed, they crossed into the new century by issuing Cruel & Delicious in 2001 through Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme‘s Rekords Rekords imprint.

There wouldn’t be another studio full-length for nine years until Archaic Volumes showed up on Cobraside Distribution. They weren’t entirely inactive during that time. They toured some, put out the Fatso Jetson Live LP in 2007, and toured and played regional shows, but founding cousins Mario Lalli (guitar/vocals) and Larry Lalli (bass) had opened a restaurant in Los Angeles called Café 322 — there was a time when I dreamed of reviewing a meal cooked by Larry at the restaurant, but alas, it has since closed —  and as anyone who’s ever worked in the restaurant business might tell you, that kind of thing has a tendency to consume one’s energies.

Time passed accordingly, and so the Fatso Jetson that emerged on the 10 songs/43 minutes was a different sounding band than they’d ever been before, despite the continued presence of both Lallis and founding drummer Tony Tornay. In addition to the recording and organ work of Mathias Schneeberger (Eddie Rivas also recorded), a key factor was the inclusion of Vince Meghrouni on saxophone, harmonica and some vocals, who brought a classy, jazzy feel to the arrangements built outward from the band’s heavy and punkish foundations.

At the same time, a solidification of songwriting took place, so that cuts like opener “Jet Black Boogie” — you don’t have to wait long for that harmonica — and “Play Dead” and the title-track and the punkabilly boogie “Golden Age of Cell Block Slang” and even the comparatively mellow “Let Go” were and remain 10 years later maddeningly catchy. To wit, just by even thinking of the album, I’ve committed to having the verses of “Jet Black Boogie,” let alone the chorus, stuck in my head for the next week, its somewhat depressive lyric brought forth in an uptempo delivery to begin a momentum that the rest of Archaic Volumes continued to push forth, and yes, I do mean push.

“Play Dead” is the second cut and though it holds back the sax, it still has a winding riff and a buildup in its second half, which makes a fitting precursor to the instrumental “Jolting Tales of Tension,” which lives up to its name before finding some footing in its own back end in a quieter section that brings a reminder that Mario Lalli doubles in Yawning Man; airier guitar taking hold for a stretch as the song starts to round out and give way to Tornay‘s snare at the start of “Archaic Volumes” itself and the pulled guitar lead lines that accompany.

There’s something in the lines of the title-track — the opening lyric, “Look at these volumes, carrying thoughts of mine…” and the chorus, “These archaic volumes won’t ever be heard” and its alternate, “These archaic volumes won’t ever really be heard” — that seems to be Fatso Jetson acknowledging their place as an underground band. Widely regarded as desert rock legends a decade later — and rightly so — they’ve never been a household name, but the use of “really” there adds an entirely different layer of meaning, implying the space between hearing and listening and enhancing the emotional effect of the song as a whole. Coupled with “Folklore and fad, destructive searching/Destiny’s dogs keep barking and lurching,” and the double-entendre of “volume,” “Archaic Volumes” can easily be read as Fatso Jetson reconciling with who they are, if perhaps wistfully.

It’s a boogie party from there with the swing rhythm of “Golden Age of Cell Block Slang” and the instrumental “Here Lies Boomer’s Panic,” both highlight examples of Archaic Volumes‘ Fatso Jetson-plus-sax methodology, and the latter seeming indeed to be an opportunity to cast out its titular anxiety. It’s certainly frenetic enough in its jabbing rhythm, and the complement of “Let Go,” still running, but smoother, can only be purposeful. The first lines of the song reaffirm that. “Let Go” winds its way through a quick sub-four minutes, and gives ground to “Black Road Tar,” which is the longest inclusion at 6:20, and offers full-on saxosurf groove and a lengthy instrumental break in its middle that’s a hook unto itself before vocals return for a few final measures and the song ends, giving way to a penultimate cover of The Cramps‘ “Garbage Man” that fits well enough alongside “Black Road Tar” and “Golden Age of Cell Block Slang” and “Here Lies Boomer’s Panic” and is such a blast that it feels like it was written to be where it is on the album, right ahead of the closer “Monoxide Dreams.”

Immediate chill. Flourish in layers of wah guitar speaks to some of the residual quirk of Flames for All, and when they’ve chosen periodically to do so, Fatso Jetson have always been exceptionally good at conveying a psychedelic sensibility. What remains astounding about “Monoxide Dreams” is that it’s so ethereal, so immersive and yet barely over three and a half minutes long. It is enough of a departure from the rest of Archaic Volumes that it can only really round out, and yet in its foundation of tone, the languid groove from Tornay and Larry Lalli and Mario‘s melodic vocal, it’s not necessarily incongruous with what came before either, even as it drifts away at the end. Were it porridge — and it might be — it would be just right.

The good news about Archaic Volumes, aside from the album itself, was that it sparked a surge in activity from Fatso Jetson that is ongoing and especially visible in the European sphere. Coupled with an increase in work from Yawning Man and related projects, Fatso Jetson have spent the last 10 years with more touring and releases, including the 2010 split with Oak’s Mary, a 2013 split with Yawning Man, as well as splits with Herba Mate (review here) and Farflung (review here) in 2014 and 2015, respectively.

Italy’s Go Down Records put out Live at Maximum Fest (review here) in 2014 and Fatso Jetson signed with Heavy Psych Sounds for the release of their seventh long-player, Idle Hands (review here), in 2016, that came roughly concurrent to a split with the Netherlands’ del-Toros (discussed here) and a collaboration with France’s Hifiklub (review here) that also included Yawning Man‘s Gary Arce on guitar. The close relationship between Fatso Jetson and Yawning Man also continues unabated. Tours together with Mario Lalli pulling double-duty — his son Dino von Lalli has also been in lineups on guitar for both bands — festival appearances domestic and international, and a general increase in awareness and reputation owing to a new generational listenership have only served to put Fatso Jetson in their rightful place at the forefront of desert rock consciousness.

If one can trace Archaic Volumes as the point at which that began — and I’d argue that’s so — then outlier or not, it represents a crucial moment for the band. And again, that’s before you even get to the songs themselves, which are stunning.

As always, I hope you enjoy.

—

That went longer than I had intended. It’s about quarter-to-seven, which is late for me to be writing. I took a break in writing the above to go for a run. 16 minutes, roughly. I’ve added a bit to the regular course, going around a wider path in a park I run through and going to the end of a street instead of turning around earlier. Nothing major, but enough to add a couple minutes and enough that I can feel it in my legs, which is what I was shooting for. If I keep up at this rate, I’ll go three miles a couple times a week by the time I’m 50. It’ll be interesting to see what happens first, that, cancer or a heart attack. The mantra, “don’t be crazy” continues to play on repeat, much like “Jet Black Boogie” from the album above.

Really. That fucking song. Wow.

Quite a week. As regards moving around, I had tweaked my ankle, so actually took a couple days off from running, then it rained so got another day, but felt pretty good after. Also been battling like a third of a cold. The Pecan and I are about on the same wavelength there — he’s coughing a bit, boogers a bit, and me too — but The Patient Mrs. has had it worse. A cough meant she couldn’t go to work on campus all week, and she’s having a COVID test today. It’s the same cold she gets every Fall when it’s work-yourself-int0-oblivion time in the semester and the temperature drops, but of course the circumstances this year are different.

I guess if she has the plague that saves us from running errands for a while. So it goes.

The Pecan, thankfully having already slept late, is waking up — I can see on the monitor — so I’m not sure how much longer I have before he runs into his closet to poop in his diaper. Nothing like waking up and taking a good dump in the closet. He starts Parsippany public pre-K the week after next, which will be after his third birthday. He says he wants to take the bus. I’m on board for letting him. We’ll see how it goes.

Ah, he’s up.

New Gimme Metal show today at 5PM Eastern. The playlist will have been posted by the time this is. Thanks if you listen: http://gimmemetal.com

Review of the new Kind album next week, and a couple premieres — an Uncle Woe LP stream that I’m looking forward to — so stay tuned for that, and I’m already behind on news and videos from Dark Buddha Rising, All Souls and All Them Witches, so I’ll endeavor to play catchup as I always seem to need to do after a Quarterly Review.

By the way, it’s kind of astounding to have just written up 60 records as I did and have at least another 80 on my desktop that I could easily have slated. Might be two full weeks in December, or I might sneak in a week before then? I’m not really sure, but hell’s bells there’s a lot out there right now.

Alright. Gotta go.

Great and safe weekend, whatever you’re up to. Have fun, don’t forget to hydrate — so important — put your nose in your mask and all that. More Monday.

FRM.

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