November 2004 PRESS
November 02, 2004
Atomic Swindlers: lost in a space warp
By Del Baker
Music Philosopher
I must admit, I was highly skeptical of a band
called “Atomic Swindlers” whose first
CD “Coming Out Electric,” is self-proclaimed
as featuring “non-gender judgmental sex,
love, time travel escapades, and intergalactic
mayhem” all with a “cosmic groove.”
Blah, blah, blah. But by the time I had listened
to the entire CD while throwing back a few cocktails,
I was inspired to don black eyeliner and spandex
as I hit the club scene full-force.
The band appears to have been lost in a (shall
I say it?) space warp for the past 20-plus years.
Their sound is reminiscent of the days of Bowie,
Iggy Pop, and glam rock, with lead vocalist April
Laragy backward channeling Gwen Stefani while
taking a drink from the truth serum of PJ Harvey.
The Seduction of Bowie the bad boy in Iggy Pop
wrapped in the Lips of Wayne Coyne. Heavenly.
Forget the magic carpet ride, hop aboard this
new age shuttle service headed into orbit.
Laragy’s vocals trip effortlessly over
intricate musical arrangements that compliment
her straightforward, sexually-charged delivery.
The band scores big with the first cut, drummer
Roy Stein’s “Float” (my electric
stargirl). Check out the video at www.atomicswindlers
.com. This song is the complete package —haunting
melody, great guitar, drums and fodder for the
mind as its lyrics take you down a path. Like
a good lover, this song leaves you spent and craving
more.
And the Atomic Swindlers deliver. Bassist Gary
Trainer reminds me the band is most definitely
a rock band first with his tune “Diamond
Dreamers,” a good song to put on when you’ve
had too many beers and turned your living room
into an air guitar studio. The edgier style of
guitarist Chris Yockel is showcased by the songs “Space
Bandit” and “sex66”. But other
guitarist Scott Ostrowski’s fanciful fretting
makes you sit up and take notice on “Stars
in my Pocket.”
The morning after my date with the Atomic Swindlers,
I was in a state of euphoria. The eyeliner was
smudged, the spandex was stained, and I was still
humming tunes from the CD.
“Coming Out” never felt so good.
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