I love garage rock. But I hate garage rock revivals, even though I firmly believe that the genre is vibrant enough to be revived every five years or so. With the exception of The White Stripes, every one of the latest crop of revivalists—The Vines, The Strokes, The Hives—has let me down. After impressive starts, they flame out into limpid sophomore albums. And they never find their way back.
So thank God for The Fleshtones. They started making garage rock twenty-five years ago, they’ve never stopped, and they’ve never, ever sucked. Their latest album, Take a Good Look, is twelve songs long, half an hour short, and chock full of snarling vocals, cheesy Farfisa organ, amateurish guitar work, and perfectly realized little pop moments. The Animals and The Dave Clark Five and The Yardbirds and ? and the Mysterians used to blast this blues-based stuff out in the mid-sixties. There isn’t a wasted note. I love it. “Look out for the jet set Fleshtones,” they sing. You should.

Where Have All The Weird Girls Gone?…

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