Kid Congo and The Pink Monkey Birds Dracula Boots

[In the Red; 2009]

Styles: garage, Dr. Demento
Others: The Cramps, The Dirty Hearts, The Intelligence

It might be an overstatement to call Kid Congo Powers one of the bridesmaids of the American underground, but it doesn’t feel like much of a stretch. Though not a household name himself, Powers has played guitar for some of the most beloved and influential bands of the past 30 years, including The Gun Club, The Cramps, Nick (may his name be forever blessed) Cave and the Bad Seeds, and Angels of Light. Since 2006, however, Powers feels that it’s his turn to wear the white gown. Dracula Boots, the sophomore release by Kid Congo and The Pink Monkey Birds, finds Powers reveling in the skuzzy, funktastic garage rock that his most famous guitar work has alluded to for years.

As a tribute, Dracula Boots is an unqualified success. Like label-mates The Intelligence, The Pink Monkey Birds sound nearly indistinguishable from the lo-fi rock ’n’ roll pioneers of the 60s. From the swampy rendition of Bo Diddley’s “Funky Fly” to the high school auditorium-ready Farina brothers homage “Buck Angel,” Powers shows an obvious passion for the grime at the roots of American rock. Yet while the album does offer up some immediate pleasures, it’s missing something to bring the listener back for a second spin. At times, it strives for diversity, departing from its grease-monkey-club-in-Transylvania vibe to explore more eerie territory, as on “La Llarona” and “Late Nite Scurry.” Still, there’s something monochromatic about these songs; they feel more like tools designed to produce an effect than genuine works of art for their own sake.

My instinct to dismiss these songs is only bolstered by the goofiness of the lyrics. A cover of the Latino soul group Thee Midnighters’ “I Found a Peanut…” sets the tone early on, and songs like “Pumpkin Pie” and “Rare as the Yeti” help push the record further into novelty territory. As a front man, Powers is somewhat removed. Roughly a quarter of the tracks are nearly wordless, and when he does sing, his voice is often artificially flattened and drenched in echo effects. These are all aesthetic choices appropriate to the idiom he’s working in, but Powers has always benefited from the presence of a charismatic, oftentimes theatrical singer. I’m not trying to fault The Pink Monkey Birds for not being The Cramps, but when you listen to Powers’ most famous supporting work, there’s a layer of richness and complexity that feels largely missing from Dracula Boots. It’s good to see Powers spreading his wings in his own solo project, but he’s one bride who seemed more at home standing along the edges of the altar.

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