A favorite since The Lemon Tape, Brave Radar’s halcyon saturation of post-Beach Boys surf and pre-Manson blood is a psychedelic splendor and the perfect seasonal weather. For those in the Northwest emerging from the gray-and-rain, here’s your fuzzy memory sunshine to break up the clouds. For those in the frigid North, a warming pattern to soften the frozen tundra and snow-capped gutters. For those in the South, the relief from a mild winter and blistering summer in the form of a never-ending cool breeze. In real words, Lion Head represents the warmest, coziest Brave Radar release to date. Though the production tends to high-end registers and Lynne emptiness, the lyrical and melodic tendencies of the band remind us of those youthful days, basked in the TV glow while Fred Savage narrated his sleepy boyhood before facing the harsh realities of growing up. This is the sort of nostalgic record that doesn’t prey on someone’s identity or a rose-colored scene, it just hits your right in the feels and makes you remember what it means to be alive. It’s purple-prose psychedelia and ability to bend a note or word hit your funnily is just the cannonball splash on a hot summer’s day to add that extra bit of refreshment.
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