So while you can’t scrutinize Flamingo Shadow for too long, or worship any lyric like gospel, you’ve got to respect the sheer audacity to eschew confession and rock their hearts out. Honestly, it’s almost too good for the tape deck. The rambunctious showstopper “Black Cloud” revels the most in such impish mystery, as we’ve discussed before we can’t say yet who will stop that train, and Flamingo Shadow don’t dare claim to know.Īll told, Earth Music knocks the ball outta the tape deck park. And never do the gang attempt to berate a target, demand retribution, or seek answers-nor do they have to, since, y’know, these guys aren’t punks, either. “Taxi” may boast a wicked groove, but here Adams tucks a lucid prophecy under her self-sufficient getaway: “ Don’t need no taxi / no taxi man / he won’t exist in five years’ time.”įar from the typically capricious escapes of pop music, Flamingo Shadow’s travelogues both speak to and toy with our uncertain future. Flashes of subconscious paranoia jolt us back into the modern day, where so many unspoken fears gnaw at the back of our minds. Indeed, that’s what lifts the album out of a self-serving nostalgic rut. The folks of Flamingo Shadow might prefer to float rather than drive home a point, but that doesn’t mean that Earth Music sails with nary a care. For sure, Earth Music slips gleefully from tidy categories, as our protagonists drift down the river of rock at a leisurely pace. But Flamingo Shadow save the most clever trick for “Keeps Me Coming,” which veers almost entirely from rock into a navy-tinted neon pop tune that smacks of Sleigh Bells (or, if you’re local, Ruby the RabbitFoot). Take “Mingo Mongo,” the feisty shakedown that kicks off the album with a firm “ yip na na na,” or the breezy waltz “Holiday” that wobbles into a glitch netherworld-these are the games from a troupe that treat the studio like a theme park rather than a soapbox. As much as the well-greased gears churn-especially the other Brown on drums, Devin-a certain buoyancy keeps the crew afloat. Of course, these flamingos don’t just strut like big shot rock stars. But listen a little longer, and you’ll hear the collective chops of David Matysiak and Mason Brown, who propel Earth Music on with rocket-fueled riffs and basslines that could echo in arenas.ĭoesn’t that cascade in the intro of “Riding on the Wind” remind you of the Edge? Don’t you wanna pull some Peter Townshend-like windmills on yr air guitar for “It’s the Sound?” Don’t Robertson’s keys on “All Way Down” sparkle like yr earliest memories of Coldplay? Make no mistake: you can get down at a Flamingo gig, but this ain’t no disco. Sure, Madeline Adams and Katie Robertson like to wear glitter and tropical attire when they wail in hypnotic unison. That’s another wince-worthy misjudgment, for while the five-strong crew can certainly pack the dance floor, slick and polished licks burst from the spools of debut tape Earth Music like Technicolor on an old TV set. In the same issue, another writer likened Atlanta rock squad Flamingo Shadow to Athens’ OG party progenitors Pylon and the B-52s. That’s not just misleading-couched in that misnomer is a blatant devaluing of the band’s skills. As part of Flagpole Magazine’s Athens Popfest coverage, for instance, a writer loosely pegged DC power trio Ex Hex as a “punk” band, even though Mary Timony and Betsy Wright trade heroic guitar solos that no ordinary street urchin could pull off (nor would they want to). These days, though, since I see more musicians and artists hustlin’ out there than other writers, the latter draw my ire more than the former. As a music critic, you’d think I’d reserve my sauciest judgments for bands.
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