The amount of garage rock flooding a hungry market is a Caligula sized feast. Much of it is fast food quick; a lot of cheap, easy food with little taste that never satiates. Austin based The Zoltars have always been fine dining by comparison. But please don’t wear your tuxedo or expect to keep elbows off the table while enjoy the band’s latest. Garage rock’s ragged catchiness is paired nicely with clean, crisp production. A note isn’t missed and the tempo’s neat. There’s not a hint of image or concern for true authenticity. Like the best…well, anything…imitation is flattering but it should never be out-right theft. The Zoltars are their own Michelin star-rated greatness; inventive by completely skewing a trendy version of garage rock that will come and go with every new generational tweak. You’ll put this record on and believe it to be a lost 60’s gem. If you don’t focus too heavy on the cover, it’ll keep the illusion alive. It’s like eating at the best Vegas Rat Pack places as Sammy and Dean yuck it up on stage in-between love croons. Except this is “garage rock” so let’s wreck the place and start a bonfire. But mind your manners when you do it. Pinkies up!
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