Log

A certain funky charm guides Denver's Log through an energetic long-player that combines relentless stoner logic with propulsive, industrial grooves. And while several seemingly unscripted interludes regarding stolen Pop-Tarts and lost umbrellas pad the album's overall total of 25 track listings, its wealth of noise, texture and rubbery bass lines...

By John La Briola

September 9, 2004

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A certain funky charm guides Denver's Log through an energetic long-player that combines relentless stoner logic with propulsive, industrial grooves. And while several seemingly unscripted interludes regarding stolen Pop-Tarts and lost umbrellas pad the album's overall total of 25 track listings, its wealth of noise, texture and rubbery bass lines gel into a cohesive dance mix -- complete with flapping sheet metal that could pass for the gyrations of a nimble-fingered turntablist ("Babies Are Born Without Kneecaps"). It's not too surprising, then, to find assorted power tools and an effects-laden bullhorn fleshing out odes to candy-assed confederates ("Big Ol' Neck") or feminine hygiene ("Piss Alley Girl"). And while any good, surreal jam band with a weakness for conceptual gimmickry is best experienced live (Log unveils its freak of nature Wednesday, September 15, at the Bluebird), this fun-spirited undertaking captures the outfit in all its willfully absurd, studio-enhanced glory.

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