The Flamin' Groovies - Sneakers

Line Records

I admit I only bought "Sneakers" for the novelty of its formatting, and I'll admit this is far from my first time hearing of The Flamin' Groovies. It's the third tryst, in fact--the first being "Shake Some Action" and the much later second being "Yesterday's Numbers". Attempts at listening to their late '70s output were spoiled by the boredom inherent in their vegetarian--that is to say, muscle-less--New Wave, so it only seemed logical to regroup with them at the beginning.

The Flamin' Groovies are, primarily, tricksters. From the back cover photographs alone it is clear that they are poseurs who have imagined that they have convinced you--and themselves--that they are the real thing. Musically, they're fence-sitting, but it's an excellent case of it. Each genre they imitate on the record, they handle with as much tender love and care as they can afford to give it.

"The Slide" takes the ever-apparent dance song craze and flips it on its head (or, more accurately, its side) and through the muddled lyrics they communicate the typical loner's lament through the "Land of 1000 Dances" haze--the ::slide:: out of social sensibilities--and day-glo paint borrowed from the Electric Flag. Drummer Danny Mihm throws out percussive rhythms as if he were firing a gun at a shooting range, hard-hitting and straightforward.

On "I'm Drowning", the band delivers us a pretty solid imitation of blues rock reworked for the psychedelic era, but it's glaringly obvious that, even though they are going wherever the acid-washed wind is taking them, that they're still searching for their own musical identity, no matter how attuned they are to having to camouflage themselves. They almost find it on "Babes in the Sky", mixing hints of country & Western with Californian Sunshine pop in a delectably salty blend. The unusual vocal posturings (Roy Loney sounds like he's singing with marbles in his mouth) paired with the satire-of-a-satire take on, most likely, Country Joe McDonald's lyrics tell me someone's been watching too many spaghetti westerns as of late.

"Love Time" carries with it more symptoms of that uncertain musical identity--the facade is slipping through the holes in the melancholic guitar part--but most of that is remedied on the following "My Yada", another country parody that, while effective, still doesn't have me picturing these boys as outlaws just yet.

The seat-searing opening of "Golden Clouds", toting early Stones stylings and complete with faux Jagger-Richards vocal harmonies tells me the band have enough self-awareness to know they're playing a joke on you and, even more impressively, to know they're playing it well. The attempt at spontaneous musical eccentricity usually expected of more obscure psychedelic bands--or John Cale--on "Prelude in a Flat to Afternoon of a Pud", though as much of a put-on as everything else on the album, is just as engaging as everything else on the album too.

Despite knowing the dim future the band are heading for, I can't help but be endeared by their work on "Sneakers". It totes with it more impassioned musical selections then those created during their more commercially successful period, and through the effort and care put into it, you can tell they really thought they were going somewhere. As mirthless as this record had (and very well has) the potential to be, it is a great third first impression.

Rating: 5/5