Think of a place you'd associate with sun and surf. I'd wager there are quite a few minds going to California right now, maybe northern Australia or Hawaii. I'd also wager that there's not a single one of you out there thinking about Croatia. Maybe it's just the recent civil conflict that still lingers in the air there, or the Cold War-inspired perception of Eastern Europe as a perpetually cold, bleak place, but Croatia doesn't get much credit for its fine Adriatic beaches outside of the countries immediately surrounding it.
I don't know much about the surfing conditions in Croatia, but regardless of what they are, as far as the Bambi Molesters are concerned it may as well be Zuma Beach. Sonic Bullets is a surf album as pure as they come, drenched in spring reverb twenty fathoms deep, and indebted more deeply to Duane Eddy's twang than you are to your creditors. All the horrifying visions of human hands defiling the purity of helpless forest animals conjured by the band's name pretty much melt away upon seeing the album cover, which features a stylized blue-hued photo of a barefoot, campy/sexy spy girl sneaking around behind an obtrusive, Ventures-style typesetting. Right there, you pretty much know what you're in for.
What's really surprising is just how good the music is. The Molesters crash out of the gate at full tilt with the excellent "Theme From Slaying Beauty," a tune that would sit nice and tight next to anything off of Dick Dale's King of the Surf Guitar. There are no gimmicky little samples from Japanese monster movies a la Man or Astro-Man?, just spirited throwback surf that behaves largely like irony never existed. "Malaguena" up the ante by adding the Spanish-influenced trumpet work of guest Boris Mohoric to the fray, as the dual-guitar assault of Dalibor Pavicic and Dinko Tomljanovic moves in tidal washes around him. The gravity of bassist Lada Furlan and drummer Hrvoje Zaborac's rhythm section drags everything along like a stiff, deadly undertow.
Though Sonic Bullets was largely recorded in Slovenia, the band also spent some time in Seattle, apparently befriending the Minus 5's Scott McCaughey, who contributes organ, vibes, piano, tubular bells and even bass harmonica to nearly half of the album's tracks. Fellow Minus 5-er Peter Buck adds some guitar and fuzz bass here and there as well, though he also does his best not to overshadow the already able band.
Buck's star power might shift a few more units for the Bambi Molesters, but it's McCaughey whose contributions are really worth noting. His bells on "Ice & Pinewood Trees" significantly up the song's creepiness factor, as though Chris Eckman of the Walkabouts' deadpan monologue about hitchhiking to the ocean wasn't enough. It follows the album's only other vocal track, "El Corazon Del Loco Jorge," which features a Spanish narrative courtesy of Eduardo "Speedo" Martinez of Finnish garage punks the Flaming Sideburns (you can't make this stuff up, folks).
Though these two songs are interesting diversions, the band is generally at their best when they concern themselves with the primary task at hand: making great instrumental rock that transcends the kitsch that colors modern surf. Most good surf has some sort of edge to it, but a few of the slower songs here actually sound a bit mournful-- something that's exceedingly rare in the genre. It makes sense, of course, given that the band members all came of age during an extremely tumultuous time in their country's history, and it adds a dense of depth that makes the album more engaging. Whereas, say, Man Or Astroman?'s fine cover of Larry Weed's "Bombora" was simply frenzied and wild, the Molesters infuse it with a dark energy absent from any other version I've heard.
Strong originals like "Tremble & Shake" take this even further, sometimes to the point of sounding downright menacing. "Final Wave for the Day" has a wonderfully sad minor-key melody juxtaposed with manic rhythms and boisterous playing, while "Double Danger" drips with the edgy paranoia of a great spy theme. Finally, there's the steadily creeping closer "Chaotica," shrouded in McCaughey's vibes and piano while Buck, Pavicic, and Tomljanovic each stake out their own territories, one offering texture with backward strums and volume swells, another comping chords and the third picking out a smoky lead line. Beautiful stuff.
Thus ends one of the most terrific surf records I've heard in ages-- the best at least since Man Or Astroman?'s Experiment Zero. Fans of the genre are advised to hastily run out and pick this up. It's probably not surprising that the Bambi Molesters are the only Croatian group I've ever even heard, but listening to Sonic Bullets has me wondering if there's any more unexplored talent over there. For now, I'm thinking I just may call a travel agent and see about a beachfront timeshare in Croatia.
