A trio of long-striving Midwestern music geeks, the members of Apache Dropout spent years riding the currents between punk and free-form noise only to wind up back in their Bloomington, Ind., basement bashing out Nuggets-worthy skronk-pop. It's a good thing they did: In a year crowded with psych-rock reboots and garage rock re-thinks, the band's 2011 self-titled debut stuck out.
Rather than favoring the minimalism of 1980s UK groups like Spacemen 3 and Loop (long the go-to influences for stoney lo-fi basement bands) or a relentless Stooges-style chug, Apache Dropout drove the wayback machine even further into the past, choosing to emphasize the shuffling, swinging rhythms of old weird rock'n'roll. Songs like "Sam Phillips Rising" dialed in the necessary amount of pummeling repetition and echo-drenched vocals, but broke the monotony using rhythmic cues swiped from country western 45s, bubblegum pop jingles, and goofball R&B. In its most sublime moments (See "God Bless You Johan Kugelberg"), Apache Dropout came over like a heavier, foggier take on the Cramps.
Aside from a modest increase in fidelity, Bubblegum Graveyard, the trio's second LP, doesn't tamper with the formula too much. Their thematic focus has drifted away from 60s mind-expansion pulp and toward vintage horror comic book imagery. The lead track, "Archie's Army" sets the tone, with singer and guitarist Sonny Alexander yowling about a deep, dark, bubblegum graveyard populated with undead Jugheads.
Apache Dropout don't try to imbue their drug rock with spiritual heft, tragedy, or greater meaning. The lyrics set a scene-- a surreal suburban teenage stoner-void that the Dead Milkmen could probably appreciate-- but any shreds of literal meaning are second to the delivery, the fever-pitched cosmic yelping that's intended to cultivate a freak-out appropriate environment at concerts. On that front, Alexander's a pro. He grunts and growls and bleats with the deranged power of a pre-meltdown Roky Erickson, bringing a kind of mad scientist desperation to the group's cover of the 1910 Fruitgum Company's otherwise benign nugget, "1-2-3 Red Light".
It's only when Apache Dropout indulge their pulpier interests too faithfully that they run into trouble. "With fingers dark and eyes that glow, the shrieking in the woods cannot be good," sings Alexander on "Ghost Stories", plying standard-issue campfire creepiness over jangling guitars." And "Robbin' the Bank" is a little too unimaginative in its appropriation of old-school country bad-guy-hero balladry. These aren't bad songs, but when compared to Bubblegum Graveyard's stellar, weirder moments, they're a bit of a let down. When Apache Dropout manage to get fully swept up their own wacko energy-- like on "I-80" or "Carryin' Fleas"-- or when they just focus their thoughts on the weirdness of ther Midwestern stomping grounds, though, they carve out an intimidating spot in a crowded scene.
