It's good to crack into some good old indie rock-styled indie rock now and again. Of course, I don't mean, the indie rock that your Gen X sibling used to stuff wrinkled dollar bills and all their faith in humanity into a postage-stamped envelope in the hopes of being able to hear. The kind they used to make when I was a youngin' (the kind you could grab off the rack at a Best Buy)! The kind that would sort of make your parents happy because it reminded them of the '60s, but would also give them a panic attack because it reminds them of the '60s, plus a mesh of some too-arty, '90s slacker vibes, which all together lead them to worry that your future would be art school followed by a long career as a part-time bus boy at a cafe that boasts at selling vegan rice crispy bars (but only because the owner doesn't realize how much bone is actually in marshmallows). Moreish Idols hits that sweet, nostalgic soft spot for me... and now that I'm an adult with a career, no one is going to give me concerned glares for spending all day listening to their EP, Lock Eyes and Collide. As is suitable to their style, they glean quite a bit of jangle from the electric-folk side of '60s psych-rock, but have this kind of strange, almost competitive elasticity to their performances, where the mix gets all chewed up between the vocals and the drums, almost like two dogs fighting over a strip of rawhide. It's a dynamic that gives the tracks a nice little burst of hungry urgency that contributes a steady column of intrigue to the otherwise peaceful chime of their sound, kind of like James Murphy bursting from a pile of vinyl wax shavings to teach a retirement-age REM how to recapture the weighty haste of their youth. While this interplay pleasantly drives the earlier tracks, it's the later half that the band really finds their stride, wherein "Green Light" stages a surreal conflict between bass-dueting pontifications as they make shapes in a contest with sax-kissed tumble-funk flexs, and the closing track, "Chum" where waves of chaos are unleashed in gratifying contrast with a painlessly preserved power-gaze pantomime that's batched blushingly well with a fuzzy tickle and melodic mascarade, wrapped in a persevering pure-hearted purr. Lock Eyes and Collide? You don't have to tell me twice.
You heard me, Play It Again Sam.
