As the leader of San Francisco noise rock band Sic Alps, Mike Donovan was an advocate for madness in an increasingly well-behaved city. But by the time the singer dissolved the group in 2013—following four full-lengths and a number of singles—it seemed like he, too, needed a breather. Not long after Sic Alps called it quits, he released a solo record, Wot, under his own name. On Wot, Donovan took a break from skronk and hiss, focusing instead on acoustic guitar-driven sounds inspired by '60s folk and country music. The production values were more traditional and the subject matter slightly more earthly and universal. It was a relaxed and pretty set of songs, which may have been to its disadvantage. If you were drawn to Alps' for the topsy-turvy sounds, Wot might have come off a bit staid.
In this sense, Peacers' self-titled LP is a course correction. Ostensibly a band, Peacers was recorded by Donovan and long-time collaborator and former San Francisco cohort, Ty Segall, who produced the album and performed on a number of the songs. It's not exactly Sic Alps Mk. II, but there are some clear similarities. The record's eerie psychedelic pop strikes a similar balance of order and chaos, with songs that rev up only to be subverted by detours into dissonance and static. The music is often wobbly and disjointed, with tracks like "Mary Jane/Glorious Sunrise" and "Drama Ensues" congealing into a groove only to vaporize with little resolution. The musical reference points have shifted away from Bob Dylan and back toward Syd Barrett and Tronics. As a singer, Donovan has exited his folkie phase and returned to his old self—tuneful, but disturbed, like a zombie Marc Bolan. And the bad vibes abound.
Bitterness was a key component of Sic Alps. Living in a rapidly gentrifying San Francisco, Donovan and his bandmates sounded like defiant weirdo survivors, fending off a rising tide of dotcom normies. As their hometown buffed up, they staked a claim in the psychedelic fringe, willful outsiders keeping the candle lit for the city's storied '60s subculture. The band's final EP came with the epigraph, "Digger gold vs. Google dorm. Real SF will rise again."
Peacers feels like a continuation of that attitude, though apart from one or two moments—closing cut "Super Francisco"—it's rare that the message is clearly stated. Rather, it's implied in the disquieting and rubbery nature of the music. Donovan's songs plot out a course toward a grimmer, grimier, and freakier world. And depending on your perspective, that may be an attractive destination.
