Paul Galaxy and the Galactix

It may be hazardous to give less than a shining review to a rockabilly band -- after all, the guys in the CD booklet look like total bruisers -- but here goes: Slingshot misses the target. The third release by Englewood's Paul Galaxy and the Galactix is a stab at...

By Jason Heller

January 20, 2005

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It may be hazardous to give less than a shining review to a rockabilly band -- after all, the guys in the CD booklet look like total bruisers -- but here goes: Slingshot misses the target. The third release by Englewood's Paul Galaxy and the Galactix is a stab at roots rock that doesn't dig deep enough into the genre's rich tradition, coasting instead on dry surf instrumentals and Galactic's pinched, pasteurized voice. From the locker-room-level dick jokes of "Firecracker" to the remedial Brian Setzer-ism of "Lunar Swing," these songs might be barn-burners live, but they barely remain lit on disc. There are a few exceptions: The intro to "White Train" blasts like Link Wray, and the ballad "All I Want" recalls Dave Alvin at his aching, vulnerable best. What Slingshot has in spades is precision, heart and an unpretentious love for pure American music. Maybe the Galactix are receptive to the idea of someday cutting utterly loose and roughing up their sound on record. If not, well...it was nice knowing you.

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