Apache Dropout

Lots of psych-garage bands name drop The 13th Floor Elevators when listing influences. But I'll be goddamed if any of them have dared to guzzle all the contents of that electric jug more proficiently than Bloomington, Ind.'s Apache Dropout. It's not blowing smoke to say Apache Dropout is the new carrier of the torch passed first from the Elevators to The Stooges, then to Spacemen 3. In two years, Apache Dropout has transformed from a simply chaotic, spazzy garage band into true purveyors of out-leaning, speaker-shredding punk R&B.

It's unsteady, blaring and fun party music for abused dogs, drug thieves and kids who want to boogie and sweat. Vocalist/ guitarist Sonny Alexander howls anthemic, thrilling lines at every turn, while drummer Seth Mahern and bassist Nathan Warrick bounce and throb. "Oh god, why must I be a teenager!? At the end of the world, why must I be a teenager?!" goes their blown-out Velvets-esque romper "Teenager." And there in the dark and smoky basement, a room full of wasted and wiggling 20-somethings are teenagers again, too, just in time for the end of the world.

Cutting their teeth in Midwest bands John Wilkes Booze and Hot Fighter #1, the dudes of Apache Dropouts could be kings of San Francisco's excellent new-garage scene if they weren't sitting so fucking comfy as kings of their own castle: Bloomington's Magnetic South house show basement venue, recording studio and cassette label. While laid to tape in their home studio, the self-titled debut was polished by Paul Mahern, of legendary Indiana punk band Zero Boys. It comes to us on venerable Indiana weirdo label, Family Vineyard. It's chock-full of glorious Vietnam-era garage throwdowns, each paranoid and thrilling. "Sam Philips Rising" is as close as Apache Dropout comes to the Elevators across the record, while "Run Peacock Run" is a country & western UFO visit. This is the wild music that bubbles and turns under the wild music you love. —Eric Deines