Boston’s best-kept musical secret probably will remain such forever. But you, now, are privy to this instrumental band that sounds kinda like Chet Atkins on acid. Or Les Paul on some sort of otherworldly speedball. Or some lounge band that’s played together in so many freaking velvet-lined, cigar-fogged rooms that they can’t help but be tight and perfectly well-practiced. “Rock/Surf/Lounge” is how the Weisstronauts bill themselves, but that’s just a way to pigeonhole them conveniently for the rock press. No, anyone who’s driven down the kitschy, cheezy world of U.S. Route 1–from the gargantuan gas tanks to the Prince Leaning Tower of Pizza to a Chinese restaurant bigger than two city blocks–knows that the Weisstronauts (who quote Route 1 in their album art) come from another place.
That damn monkey always shows up on their album covers
in front of some Route 1 establishment of questionable repute.
In that place there’s fuzzy distortion, weird sound effects, and damn fine pickin’ on the electric guitar. Their sound is sparse and melodic, catchy, and crankable to earth-shattering volumes on your hi-fi rig because it’s clean and beautifully produced. I love these guys and I wish they’d crank out some more music already, because nearly two years without a new record is two years too many. At least they live large on MySpace, where new fans can listen to sample cuts and track down their obscure records on an obscure local label. Long live the Weisstronauts!
