Converging on the Northwest to fill the sucking void created by ozone depletion and species extinction, Julia Dream banded together to achieve one simple goal: dismantle the entire web of modern industrial spoilage and the corporate sponsorship of spiritual murder.  Their epic debut album Radiate aims to do just that.

The album opens with the title track, a minor anthem that tweaks every chakra.  John's twisted imagery and Jeff’s shimmering dueling guitars set you up like the clattering track at the top of the roller coaster’s first big peak.  Anticipation builds.  The view is great.  Lift up your hands, let out a yelp, and you plunge into “Wishing Rain”, a vocal collage tucked into a diggable, bass-heavy burner reminiscent of the Afghan Whigs.

Characters abound on the album.  The hook laden “Lucky” is the pop plea of a penny-anti gambler.  Wa-wa guitars give way to wailing organs, and with a lyric nod to forefathers The Police, we slip into the astral honky-tonk of “Yours and Mine”.  The names start dropping soulful rhythms stick-and-move around the ring for a couple rounds. 

Familiar licks take on new dimensions on the next two tracks.  The Marcy Playground influences of “Pearl” shine through fuzzy bass slides and a frenzied organ barrage.  And you know the cocktail napkin that Peter Buck was doodling chords on before he was hauled drunk and swinging from British Airways flight 48 from Seattle to London?  Julia Dream were back in coach, and they found the napkin. They interpret its contents for us in the pretty persuasion of “Home”.  

The ending comes, like the song says, “too soon”.  As we sink into the closing bedtime story of “Trembletown”, we drift off- haunted, satiated… and totally convinced.

Even if their grand plan to deliver us all is subverted by government-sponsored boy-band conspirators, at least we can rest in the knowledge that Julia Dream’s post modern debut Radiate will rock us more than a little before all goes dark.
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