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deadbubbles

With unhinged twanginess, unabashed spaciness and unapologetic snottiness, deadbubbles plays raunchy, raucous rock and roll that exists out of time. The Broomfield-based outfit's psychedelic rhythm-and-blues-a-billy seethes, surges and snarls as it spans the rock decades, comprising the rhythmic romp of the Crickets, the sassy swagger of the Yardbirds and the...
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With unhinged twanginess, unabashed spaciness and unapologetic snottiness, deadbubbles plays raunchy, raucous rock and roll that exists out of time. The Broomfield-based outfit's psychedelic rhythm-and-blues-a-billy seethes, surges and snarls as it spans the rock decades, comprising the rhythmic romp of the Crickets, the sassy swagger of the Yardbirds and the lysergic liturgies of Syd Barrett. Arlo White's nasal taunts rile the restless rhythm section of bassist Matt Martinez and drummer Dave Rosset, while jittery guitarist Paul Humphrey eggs them all on with barre-chord bravado. The melee can get a little messy at times, but there's no denying the inexorable intensity of the quartet's zeal. There's nothing esoteric or remotely subtle about the group's devil-may-come barn-burners, but the metamorphic, rowdy rock of deadbubbles (due at Old Curtis Street this Saturday, January 26) rolls recklessly and gathers no moss.

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