Receive Weekly Email and Text Message Updates:
Sign up for latest info on concerts, dining, promotions and more!
Go!

Most Popular

Reader's Picks

Top Recommendations

A short list of Phoenix's most popular hot spots.
user content provided by: LikeMe.net & Phoenix New Times

National Features >

  • City Pages

    Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled

    You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.

    By Matt Snyders

  • Miami New Times

    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

  • Riverfront Times

    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

  • Dallas Observer

    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

The Sonic Thrills

Get Up!
(Truxton Records)

Share

  • rss

By Matt Neff

Published on July 03, 2007 at 8:25pm

A hot, fat bucket of garage, '60s soul, and rock rock rock 'n' roll that tantalizes the jaded tongue with potent drops of the Kinks, the Detroit Cobras, and the Sonics — that's right, the Sonics (why yes, it is a strangely similar name). The suavo-seductive attack formation of intense Sinatra-esque love-stare proportions assumed by the Thrills on the album cover shows they're into the "retro cool" crap — which wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't retro cool without much imagination. On one hand, the Thrills can play their asses off — Michael Johnny Walker's guitar careens, clangs and etches lewd suggestions into your forehead with laser-beam precision — and the production on Get Up! is top-notch (very clean and heavy), but don't expect any lyrical insights beyond yayuh yayuh yayuh and baybee baybee baybee. The Sonic Thrills are a garage rock bar band, albeit a shit-hot good one, which is to say they're as boring as they are exciting. Without a doubt, though, the Thrills hold their own with the Dirtbombs and all those nasty Detroit knuckle-grinders, and they're definitely better than nine-tenths of Arizona's musical wheezes.