Never been so glad to see a Monday, here's my review of the Nebraskan garage pop band called The Box Elders.
Two brothers from Omaha and an organ-playing drummer make up the Box Elders. Their set-up, like their sound, gets the most from bare minimum components, churning fuzzy, sloppy, pop that seems to emerge from some 1960s vintage rec room or basement. The brothers – Clayton and Jeremiah McIntyre – sing in haphazard unison over jangling Nuggets guitar licks and calliope fills of thrift shop organs (that’s multi-tasker Danny Goldberg with one hand on the keys, the other clutching a drumstick). Lyrics flit from classic done-me-wrong love stories (“Ronald Dean”) to carpe diem eschatology (“2012”) to snarky love-through-death songs (“Necro” turns roller-rink organ gambols into funeral home trills). Nothing is nailed down. Nothing is entirely serious. It’s all in fun – and it is fun, fortunately. When this sort of thing falls flat, it’s dreadful.
Here they are playing "Hole in My Head"