Across from the Silverlake Lounge in east LA is a nondescript strip mall called Silversun Plaza. It has a liquor store, a laundry, an inexplicable dentist's office and some restaurants; not unlike a million other bastards of American urban sprawl. And yet, the Silversun Pickups named their band after this collection of pavement, neon and rebar. In this way, Silversun Plaza transcended its complete ordinariness and became something else, not more or less important, just something else. Like the association you have with your first girlfriend's first name, it might not be entirely positive but that noun, that collection of letters, will simply never be the same.
The Happy Hollows don't sound exactly like Silversun Pickups but it's close. Churning, textured, wall-of-sound guitars rip out of the gate. A loose but not ill-conceived chord-progression allows for the low-end power of female vocals and enough productive fuzz to keep you in business through Sunday. Their publicist tells me they sound like PJ Harvey. I'm leaning more towards what would happen if Fleetwood Mac made a punky, post-rock album. A little menace and a little propulsion and the uncertain prospect of becoming something else. Get transcendental, people.
Listen :: Happy Hollows - "Faces"
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