Customer Reviews

White Hot Peach

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

This album was more of an impulse buy, but after listening to it, I am extremely glad that I did make the purchase. The things that impressed me most about this album are as follows:
1. The musical catches in each song are obviously very inspired and will most likely have you humming along after a listen or two. The best songs (IMHO) are "Fading Out" and "Blood From a Beating Heart." If you can find these on the internet somewhere, maybe they will convince you to purchace this album
2. The lyrics in the songs on this album (very much similar to their previous album) are just simply amazing. The songs are almost poetic in nature and are very open to interpretations. Pimative Radio Gods are a very underappreciated group and defenetly deserver your attention. Those of you that like counting crows, blur, the smashing pumpkins, or dave matthews will most likley appreciate this album as well.

No idea what caused the five year wait between albums here, but frankly, it looks like it was worth it. The lyrics remain on the trippy side without sounding obtuse or full of themselves - "I am the alien/I've come here for your sun/I'm opening up your chest/I'm taking the parts you won't miss" should give you some idea. The music has taken a more 60's pop turn, with plenty of good melodies and hooks. The album, even when loud, runs rather quiet, but it's a good quiet - you'll probably find yourself humming along or tapping your foot. Final note - despite what the booklet says, do not play at maximum volume - your neighbors will thank you.

This album is fantastic, a major leap over their first one. Instead of just throwing sound effects to make the songs, they actually create songs with great melodies and chord progessions and then add any sound effects they need to their advantage. "Message From Steven" is a dreamy/distorted opener, short and sweet. "Ghost of a Chance" almost seems like something you'd hear on a soft rock station-very laid back with clever lyrical references to several jazz musicians. "Gotta Know Now" is the best song on the cd - The shimmering guitar and drums fit right in and the smart lyrics that ramble on are just plain great. "Blood From a Beating Heart" and "Fading Out" or two more great spacy acoustic songs, definate highlights. "Devil's Triangle" is the only agressive number, and agressive it is. A grungy guitar riff along with guitars in the background squealing like sirens and the singer uses a very odd voice distorter. "First Alein Photo" is another spacy acoustic song and is one of the more unique tracks on the record. A simple acoustic guitar part with ufo sounds fluttering here and there and lyrics from an alien's point of view about visiting earth. "Wayward Pilot's mission" and the laid-back "Motor of Joy" are two more great songs. "Skin Turns Blue" is another acoustic song with nothing really special about it and the melody seems bland and boring. Not a bad song but not something I listen to because all the other songs kick ass. "Whatever Wakes McCool" is a 6 1/2 minute space rocker of different sound effects with ambient noise behind it and short guitar parts here and there. A nice ending to the album, although I wish that there was more actual music going on during the song. All in all, a great lost cd that will never see the light of day. Several songs could easily make great radio tunes, but greedy corporate executives don't wanna take chances on bands like these so we hear the same boring heavy 4-chord progession crap behind a guy that tries to imitate scott stapp, who has a bad voice himself.

Apparently this release got held up by a variety of music industry shenanigans, but it was well worth the wait. The record overall features a mellow blend of electronic effects, samples, and acoustic sounds - at times reminiscent of Pink Floyd's _Dark Side of the Moon_ - with "Devil's Triangle" thrown in as a grungy counterpoint. I particularly liked "Ghost of a Chance" with its recycled Jazz lyrics.

Just like the other reviewers, I was turned off when I listend to Rocket. Obviously because I was expecting a "Standing Outside..." sound to the album. However, I don't know how much time had passed, but after a very long while of not listening to that album, I picked it up again. I never realized I had a daimond in the rough the whole time.

But on to this album, "White Hot Peach", it was a different case. Yes it is fairly different than Rocket. But in no way should that be taken as a negative fact. Chris O'Connor has a voice that hums with a unique smoothness in the more mellow of the songs (Ghost of a Chance), and he keeps a very non-monotone feel to the album while he's at it. The biggest difference between this album and Rocket is that it didn't take me a long time to realize that this is a daimond that holds more beauty than roughness.

This album sounds nothing like Rocket, and if you are expecting anything similar, don't even bother with this album or any of their other releases. I don't like to be one of the people who puts an album down for not sounding like the one before it and can appreciate artistic growth and experimentation. This album, on the other hand, instantly brings to mind the question, "WTF am I listening to?" when one hears it. This doesn't sound like mere experimentation or a change of direction for the band. This does not even sound like the same band or singer. I can not find a single element that would clue the listener in that this is Primitive Radio Gods. If someone listened to this album without knowing who it was, they would most likely think it was a new tripped out emo band. The name of the band should have been changed to Death Cab For Primitive Radio Gods, signaling that the band formerly known as Primitive Radio Gods has died and been taken away in a hearse and a new band that is more like an all acoustic stoner version of Death Cab For Cutie has taken their place. The album itself should have been called Cold Dismal Shoegazing Emo.

It's OK. Just not as good as the first album.