THE FLAKES
Back to School Dollar Record
________________________________________________________
This the first time I ever checked a CD to make sure it was
playing at the right speed. As if I could change it. See, Flakes frontman
John Macdonald’s vocals have a pubescent boy-shriek to ‘em, and that’s
pretty alarming. You get used to it, though, and once you settle into the
battered-trashcan production and the skinny-kid yowl, “Back to School” is
a smooth ride down the ol’ retro-fuzz, uh, fuzzway. The Flakes remind me a
lot of Chicago’s Powerknobs, another frat-shaking gang of reverb-soaked
garage stompers with an ear for pop hooks and a flair for the dramatic.
Like the ‘Knobs, the Flakes summon their mojo from old Sonics nuggets, and
they somehow manage to make their written-yesterday originals sound like
covers from 1967. Now, you may say to yourself, “Self, if the Flakes sound
like something straight off of a Pebbles comp, why wouldn’t I just listen
to the real thing?” Well, the answer to that is simple. The Merry Dragons
might’ve really tore it up in ’66, but today they are all dead, or fat, or
your grandpa. The Flakes, on the other hand, are young and thin, and have
cool hair. And that, brothers and sisters, is how the rock keeps rolling
on, year after wasted year. So save up your sugar cereal boxtops, send ‘em
in to Dollar Records, and Flake freely. It’s a gas.
This the first time I ever checked a CD to make sure it was
playing at the right speed. As if I could change it. See, Flakes frontman
John Macdonald’s vocals have a pubescent boy-shriek to ‘em, and that’s
pretty alarming. You get used to it, though, and once you settle into the
battered-trashcan production and the skinny-kid yowl, “Back to School” is
a smooth ride down the ol’ retro-fuzz, uh, fuzzway. The Flakes remind me a
lot of Chicago’s Powerknobs, another frat-shaking gang of reverb-soaked
garage stompers with an ear for pop hooks and a flair for the dramatic.
Like the ‘Knobs, the Flakes summon their mojo from old Sonics nuggets, and
they somehow manage to make their written-yesterday originals sound like
covers from 1967. Now, you may say to yourself, “Self, if the Flakes sound
like something straight off of a Pebbles comp, why wouldn’t I just listen
to the real thing?” Well, the answer to that is simple. The Merry Dragons
might’ve really tore it up in ’66, but today they are all dead, or fat, or
your grandpa. The Flakes, on the other hand, are young and thin, and have
cool hair. And that, brothers and sisters, is how the rock keeps rolling
on, year after wasted year. So save up your sugar cereal boxtops, send ‘em
in to Dollar Records, and Flake freely. It’s a gas.