Born in a garage full of dusty LPs and familiar yet forgotten vintage gear, The Lava Children's eponymous mini-album debut sounds somewhat like an amalgam of Lee Hazlewood's psychedelic country and Flower Traveling Band's Japanese hippie jam, with a Joy Zipper trip-rock sheen, among other myriad influences. Yet they pull off reflections of their influences without sounding identifiably like any single one of them.
The Lava Children are Sherri West and Taylor Clark, a pair of gun-slinging former Oklahomans who followed their destiny to a carport in Altadena. They have all of the freak-out passion of early Flaming Lips, tempered by keener songwriting and smoother production. But they are not trying to capitalize on burgeoning trends and ride the coattails of whomever they happen to be touring with. Every song on their Graveface debut has a unique sonic character, as distinct as a Dalí painting or Technicolor snowflake.
Adding to their mystique, Sherri's voice is utilized more as a piece of the aural puzzle than a conduit for lyrics, sounding vaguely like Miho Hatori of Cibo Matto. Taylor's guitar work is rich, but not overly polished or over-rehearsed. The result is a vibrant and varied recording that challenges unknowing listeners to identify its date or place of origin.
The Lava Children represents everything The Coral could have been if they went the route of Neutral Milk Hotel instead of trying to keep up with Supergrass, or The Dandy Warhols if they went Velvet Underground instead of new wave. It comes as no surprise that labelmates Black Moth Super Rainbow have been singing The Lava Children's praises. The Lava Children live this stuff, and their originality comes as a product of an honest commitment to sound.
1. I Am A Pony
2. Particles
3. Firefly
4. Troll
5. The Green Word
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