THE PRIMATES - I Ain't Like You
What a RiFFuzz!!
Just one album. And then the Primates return to the jungle they came from.
Born in Youngstown (what better name for a band of stupid teenagers who enjoy answering the few interviews with chimpanzee-like verses?, NdLYS), the Primates arrive in Los Angeles on the emotional wave that carries countless long-haired folks to the Cavern Club in search of their moment of popularity. Erik Bluhm, Brett Miller, Ted Edlefsen, Brian Corrigan have that moment in 1986.
Just a moment.
And what would having a second be good for?
That single moment is enough.
Because that moment produces one of the most enjoyable garage records of the entire 80s, even though at the time it was dismissed as just a B-level album. Produced by Brett Gurewitz during his sixties-sound frenzy (he will also produce the second Morlocks album, the debut of Untold Fables, Magic Still Exists by the Leopards, and Drop of the Creature by the Steppes before briefly joining Yard Trauma, NdLYS) and Greg Shaw, We Are The Primates reeks of primitive garage punk.
It’s the itchy vulva of a Neolithic woman that opens up, primordial and hungry, the ancestral and wild scent of a female in heat around which these four Stone Age Monkees dance, stuffed with alcohol and covered in mammoth fur.
Those who love refined sounds should stay away, now more than ever, as it's all a jungle of maracas, essential chords, cembalo, and howls from a heat-stricken macaque. Three covers that seem tailor-made for them (Outside by Downliners Sect, Born Loser by Murphy & The Mob, I Got Nightmares by Q65) are so in line with the primitive style adopted by the group, plus a curious version of I Go Ape by an unsuspected Neil Sedaka and eight original tracks that are a devastating representation of basic beat wrapped in fuzz paper and Pretty Things saliva from the Get the Picture? era.
Then, nothing more: of the primates, except for Eric Bluhm who will become one of the finest American DJs, guardian of the purple haze of garage, acid rock, and folk rock from the Sixties, there will be no trace left, and even the reissue of their album, on Soundflat-branded vinyl, will go unnoticed, as no one will dare to speak about it, not knowing what to say.
Uh! Uh! We are The Priiiiiimates!!!!
The Rev
What a RiFFuzz!!
Just one album. And then the Primates return to the jungle they came from.
Born in Youngstown (what better name for a band of stupid teenagers who enjoy answering the few interviews with chimpanzee-like verses?, NdLYS), the Primates arrive in Los Angeles on the emotional wave that carries countless long-haired folks to the Cavern Club in search of their moment of popularity. Erik Bluhm, Brett Miller, Ted Edlefsen, Brian Corrigan have that moment in 1986.
Just a moment.
And what would having a second be good for?
That single moment is enough.
Because that moment produces one of the most enjoyable garage records of the entire 80s, even though at the time it was dismissed as just a B-level album. Produced by Brett Gurewitz during his sixties-sound frenzy (he will also produce the second Morlocks album, the debut of Untold Fables, Magic Still Exists by the Leopards, and Drop of the Creature by the Steppes before briefly joining Yard Trauma, NdLYS) and Greg Shaw, We Are The Primates reeks of primitive garage punk.
It’s the itchy vulva of a Neolithic woman that opens up, primordial and hungry, the ancestral and wild scent of a female in heat around which these four Stone Age Monkees dance, stuffed with alcohol and covered in mammoth fur.
Those who love refined sounds should stay away, now more than ever, as it's all a jungle of maracas, essential chords, cembalo, and howls from a heat-stricken macaque. Three covers that seem tailor-made for them (Outside by Downliners Sect, Born Loser by Murphy & The Mob, I Got Nightmares by Q65) are so in line with the primitive style adopted by the group, plus a curious version of I Go Ape by an unsuspected Neil Sedaka and eight original tracks that are a devastating representation of basic beat wrapped in fuzz paper and Pretty Things saliva from the Get the Picture? era.
Then, nothing more: of the primates, except for Eric Bluhm who will become one of the finest American DJs, guardian of the purple haze of garage, acid rock, and folk rock from the Sixties, there will be no trace left, and even the reissue of their album, on Soundflat-branded vinyl, will go unnoticed, as no one will dare to speak about it, not knowing what to say.
Uh! Uh! We are The Priiiiiimates!!!!
The Rev
IlConte
6 mar 23
DeRank ™: 23,96
Loading comments slowly
