Woods
City Sun Eater in the River of Light

If there's a band that in recent years has best embodied the free spirit of the late '60s Californian scene, it's Jarvis Taveniere's Woods.

And to think they started almost 10 years ago as a lo-fi indie folk project, gradually beefing up the guitars and, above all, opening the third eye to a sunlit and introspective imagination, reminiscent of the warm and acid guitars of Quicksilver, Grateful Dead, Crazy Horse, but also Love, and other lesser-known bands of California from those times (for eclecticism sometimes the fantastic Kaleidoscope come to mind). Without forgetting two important things: they release at least one record of consistently excellent quality every year and a half, and they come from cold New York, so they see the California sun like the inmates of Alcatraz.

This latest “City Sun etc” opens with yet another little masterpiece of their repertoire: “Sun City Creeps” is the perfect meeting point between mariachi trumpets, fuzz guitars, Neil Young, and Ethiopian jazz, all blended in less than 6 minutes. Already one of my favorite tracks of the year.

It continues with more standard tracks, where you can breathe the air of great spaces (the so-called “Americana”), riding on slide guitars (“Morning Light”), or mid-tempo tunes with carefree choruses (“Creature Comfort”), which somewhat dampen the sensation of the perfect album after the greatness of the first track. But fortunately, already from “Can't See At All” the level rises again, thanks to the muted acidity of “The Other Side” and “I See In The Dark” and the evident one, with a base of folk, brass, and piano of “The Take”.

But the most surprising thing about Woods, beyond everything written above, is their immediate accessibility. After three listens, the tracks imprint themselves in your mind and never leave, instead growing over time. A rare gift these days for those who still use the traditional instruments of rock.