Written by: Chris DeMento
Well, what about it? The Moondoggies‘ Don’t Be a Stranger is truly bluesier than a lot of what gets called garage cuts these days, and I’m burned out again on the whole what-makes-indie-or-not so let’s cut to chase then and interrupt”–great album for rock and roll,” this Don’t be a Stranger, I mean, if that’s what you’re into, rock and roll.
No doddering, no drolls, the sort of lyrical content that defies abstraction but which might also provide the complete syntactic rudiments for its critical review, as if written to say, “I do not fear the undertaker . . .” Hold-on sweet dears.
Do I decamp, this time around, from the usual run-up bitchery, the increasingly web-hazardous, bitchfoxly assessment of a band, leaving the usual told-on internet warehouses, the mmeyespaces, to the jackals, then, for an intimate knowledge of a band’s material. Yes, I do. But mostly only because this is their first album as the Moondoggies and a buddy turned me onto them and they’re super cool and Kevin Murphy seems chill on the just-enough cliche tip and the songs are lots AED which raed the right way are a fine sight! Plus, it’s only a single album to have to memorize to’ve memorized their gospel completely.
Abstract. Abstract not; Methinks they used to be called The Familiars. Now they are called The Moondoggies, from up in Washington, Seattle, Washington? Some say the question mark is a copped-out cop out, like out like 10 – 4. Others say “Fleet Foxes” of the Moondoggies, the old, “The Band,” other old, “The Byrds,” which is, are, cool, but perhaps I’m the first old dude to drawl a bitsy asterisk by Neil Young on this one? Who knows. Shame it should boil down this way: I didn’t need to spend that much time doing the thang of the internet sketch here; the thang, like some pizzasauces from the middle nineties, “it’s in there.”
Oh yes, preview information:
Stranger Dance Presents: The Moondoggies, Harbours, Sarah Bethe Nelson @ Rickshaw Stop, 8pm, $10
