The Flute Flies Yes Means Maybe cytunes.org
Let’s get the bullying done right off the bat: all the proceeds from the money you pay for this album by following this link goes to fight cancer, so you’re going to go and buy it now; I’ll wait until you get back before I continue the review.
Done? Back?
Okay, well, now you’ve bought it so you don’t need me to tell you what it’s like, but in case you’re too lazy to form your own opinion of the things you listen to: follow me on a timewarp trip into fifties and sixties rock and roll, you know, the time when racists liked to call it “race music” to make it clear that this wasn’t something for respectable middle class white people, these jungle beats and vamping guitars and good times on the dance floor; except hell the cool kids didn’t listen anyway and that Buddy Holly character went and made people confused because he sure looked white but sounded so—well, so—so—so and so people started molding the things they heard in their own ways, and we got the Beach Boys and the Byrds smashed country into psychedelic rock and on and on and look where we ended up today. The Flute Flies have tapped a mainline into that good stuff, too, so you get a thoroughly twenty-first century set of music rising out of a foundation dug nice and deep into those rock ‘n’ roll sounds. You’re going to want to stop reading this now and get yourself plugged into your speakers, because your experience of the songs will grow with each time through the album as you listen to it, hearing not just the beautiful vocal harmonies, but the piano here, the guitar work there, music that sounds so much a part of the history of rock and roll music that you can’t believe it didn’t exist already until you realize it takes a certain kind of talent to bring things together in just this way while still sounding original and fresh and exciting. And yes, yes, The Flute Flies: there will be prizes.
Click here to buy the album and donate money to the cytunes.org cause.
