INCHES reviews Lambo, Marshmallow Ghosts (mbrs of BMSR, Appleseed Cast), Bipolar Bear, and Pink Noise (MP3s)
In the strange wake of music's digital rebirth, vinyl has experienced a modest boom in popularity, seen by many as a replacement for the awkward middleman that is the compact disc. INCHES reviews the output of L.A.'s healthy vinyl community (artists and labels, indie or other), believing that good music deserves much more than a handful of ones and zeros.
Last week, we checked out a Talking Heads classic alongside an entry from local heroes No Age (and more). This week, well, everything comes in editions of 500. It just worked out that way. Questions, submissions or suggestions? Email INCHES here.
If you haven't heard of Flux Capacitor Records, be not dissuaded. It's merely the third in a series of one-off, 45-releasing labels started by Stones Throw CEO Peanut Butter Wolf (we previously covered the Dâm-Funk 7-inch on Circle Star). Lambo, too, is an oddity of sorts -- a goofball lothario whose stated object of affection is, well, a "Computer Bagel." We're not exactly sure how one digitizes a baked good, but some semblance of sense is attained when Lambo fires up the gratuitous AutoTune to croon over a jazzy, synth-slathered break. The novelty wears a little thin when he switches his focus to "[his] Red Volvo," but the A-side racks up a high point when Lambo bridges "Computer Love" to "California Love" (to the Jewish snack) with the line, "Shake, shake it, Bagel."
Stream samples and/or purchase via the Stones Throw web store.
While lacking a direct tie-in to the City of Angels, The Marshmallow Ghosts only come out for All Hallows' Eve, which makes them spiritual kin to L.A.'s invisible, winged denizens. Though no names have been given, band members' former lives were reportedly spent with Black Moth Super Rainbow, The Appleseed Cast, Dreamend, and The Casket Girls, and their sound is an appropriately nightmarish brand of ethereal post-rock. A-side "Shrieks" is an epically eerie stomper that ends on a gust of wind, while "Creaks" ditches drums for slow-growing creep and the muffled voice of a female vocalist. The jacket glows in the dark, but don't stare too long at the record in motion -- the hypnotic swirl may do you in.