Allah-Las

The Exchange, Bristol | May 16th

Despite their denial of having a purely vintage sound, Californian quartet Allah-Las perfectly channel the essence of mid-60s West coast psych-garage on their records. In fact, you’d be forgiven for believing that your mp3 was ripped from a warped vinyl that’s gathered dust in an ex-hippie’s attic for decades. So is that antiquated golden fuzz the work of savvy studio skills? Can they re-create the magic onstage, or will they just sound your dad’s mates’ band who knock out a few 60s covers at the annual village fete?

With the band being former employees of LA’s legendary Amoeba Music store, there’s a chance they’ll resemble the women-fearing, hobbit-like dudes who dwell our beloved independents. But actually, Allah-Las are enviably handsome, like the cast of a Hollywood record shop movie, and it turns out that they sound just as great as they do on record. Their vintage Gibson and Danelectro equipment is channelled through watery reverb effects, their four part harmonies feel like they’re sang into a desert canyon and frontman Miles Michaud achieves that stoned, muffled sound simply by wrapping a handkerchief around his microphone.

Allah-Las’ songs are resourcefully straightforward – usually based around a progression of three or four minor key chords which give them a deeply pensive feel. OK, so diversity isn’t exactly their strongpoint (even after having their album on the stereo incessantly, it’s hard to differentiate one track from another tonight), but there’s no harm in repeating the same trick if your formula is to seamlessly knock out irresistible gems that evoke an era when modern consciousness was reaching its’ peak. For the last song, they let the drummer sing lead, yet somehow their style isn’t cramped one bit. Smooth.

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Words: David Reed