As if they were the anti-Wavves, Brooklyn's Beach Fossils wring from their kick-back, lo-fi stoner beach pop impossibly clean, intertwining guitar lines that loop and loop and loop and . . . Well, they loop to the point that, as you listen, you feel as though you were lounging on a floatie, as gentle waves take you no place in particular. It's hypnotic stuff, with bass lines that recall such disparate influences as New Order and Galaxie 500, and leader Dustin Payseur's too-tired-to-give-a-shit vocals drenched in reverb. On the band's self-titled debut, Payseur opens the record with, "Well, I can hardly stand / But I really don't care to know / And you can take my hand / But I don't care where we go." Throughout Beach Fossils, it's clear Payseur seems not to have any particular place to go, either, as long as it's away from real life. Moving and shaking at a Beach Fossils show? I can't see it. But with a head full of beer and the band's mesmerizing pop, you can join Beach Fossils on their summer vacation without ever moving your feet.
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