Dont call it garage rock.
  • Isadora Tripodo
  • Don't call it garage rock.

Straight outta Bordeaux, France, comes a piping hot flume of garage, psychedelia, and rock in the form of five-piece J.C. Satàn. Forget Bordeaux's wine. Yeah, we know the soil, the conditions, and the châteaus there are prime for growing chic grape vines. Whatever. The flume's over here, with songs about dragons and morning-after sex in a drug haze. We've got Paula on vocals, Arthur on guitar and vocs, Ali on bass, Romain on drums, and Dorian on keyboard. The band's sound stems from Arthur's guitar. He doles crisp hooks, solos, and churns through distorted rhythm. Paired with Paula, they have a '60s-tinged he/she moxie. Live, the quintet rips through dark, prog-grated pop with punk-sodden up-tempo bursts. They have range as well, dipping into slower, pensive, psyched-out serenades. Look for J.C. Satàn releases out on Slovenly, Teenage Menopause, and Azbin Records. And put down your sauvignon blanc blah blah. Or dump it on a writhing pile of flesh and love and fuzz pedals. The band spoke from Bordeaux. No one writhed, I don't think.

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