The Brian Wilson Shock Treatment | Druid TIme Lords

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Druid TIme Lords

by The Brian Wilson Shock Treatment

The Brian Wilson SHock Treatment have taken their brand of garage psych-punk and and made it more Futuristic and Ancient. Primitive Druid Rhythms propel cosmic lyrics of Doom. Think early Black Sabbath, Hawkwind, and High Tide.
Genre: Rock: Psychedelic
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1. The Warlock
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3:15 $0.99
2. I Hear Voices
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3:36 $0.99
3. C'mon!
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4:24 $0.99
4. Bangladesh
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5:26 $0.99
5. Pleasant Valley Sunday
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3:52 $0.99
6. Druid Time Lords
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2:42 $0.99
7. The Garden of Eden
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3:06 $0.99
8. The Moons of Jupiter
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2:22 $0.99
9. Lazarus ( is Among Us)
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3:01 $0.99
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3:22 $0.99
11. Snake Goddess
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4:11 $0.99
12. 'Lil Liza Jane
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1:28 $0.99
13. Lunar Suntan
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2:05 $0.99
14. Interstellar Loser
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4:08 $0.99
15. Druid Time Lords II (Intergalactic Version)
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3:24 $0.99
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Album Notes
Album opener The Warlock is an amazing tune in the footsteps of Magic Potion by The Open Mind. MIchael Lynch collaborates for the freaked out "Pleasant Valley Sunday." Lots of Eastern Raga ala The Orient Express and Mogollar.


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Mr. Atavist

We Love the BWST
With a name like The Brian Wilson Shock Treatment {BWST}, a platter called Druid Time Lords {Poe/Slutfish Records} and songs about being on the run from laser beams, warlocks and interstellar losers, you know you’re in for … something … what is it exactly? I’m not sure. Psych-punk? Art-punk space-rock? Low-brow psych? Whatever it is, it’s The Brian Wilson Shock Treatment.

Mining the same dissonant, angular sonic soil as other freakster-brethren such as Chrome and F/i, BWST jumps into the fray with their own brand of psych-rock that’s murky, alien and insular. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but neither is lying in bed for years. But maybe being voluntarily bed-ridden is just a way to lay down some groundwork, so when you stand up and take flight, you got some place soft to land in case it doesn’t all work … and that may be the appeal of BWST: it sounds like it’s not working, or at least the pistons are out of sync.

Underneath that blister and cracking though, it’s pretty clear that this is what they’re aiming for. We all know folks who found punk appealing because of the whole “I-can-do-that-and-I-can’t-even-play” ethos, and still do. There’s much more to it than that, and far more complicated, but that was/is a big pull … to a point. You soon run into codgers like me who find absolutely nothing wrong with being able to play your instruments, or at least have a target. BWST are taking aim, but whether they’re aiming high or low … well, you can determine that for yourself, punk. It’s ultimately up to you to decide what has been given birth to here … but at least be honest: every baby you have to hold isn’t going to be cute.

It’s not all squall and squalor though. The frenetic drumming and bass anchor the whole affair giving Druid Time Lords a solid base to whirl around. Opener The Warlock comes out of the gate full force like some warped degenerate wasted-youth update of Sabbath’s The Wizard. That mind set carries on through, taking some surprising turns. Bangladesh takes off on a great chugging, driving tangent only to be willfully derailed by their finger-flipping, but respectful, take on Pleasant Valley Sunday. Like much of Druid Time Lords, it doesn’t really sound like it should work, but it does. The Garden of Eden makes some obvious nods to old codger rock with its guitar line and military-march coda just as The Moons of Jupiter, for all its thumping repetitive bass has some downright pastoral touches … on a scorched Earth. Snake Goddess has a fried almost Feelies-like jitter that, unsurprisingly, detours into their take on ‘Lil Liza Jane with it’s decayed Stones-y swagger.

Is it all over the map? You bet. Is it headless and with no purpose? Absolutely not. Rock-bottom anchors conjure up everything from early Who-run-the-gamut-to-Blue Cheer bombast to their more punk-singed take on psychedelics making it pretty clear through all the murk that this on purpose. That also makes the record, to me, downright … charming … in its seemingly low-brow aesthetic.

Zappa, a freakster himself who willfully trafficked in and celebrated both the high- and lo-roads, can have the last word:

“I have an important message to deliver to all the cute people all over the world. If you’re out there and you’re cute, maybe you’re beautiful. I just want to tell you somethin’ — there’s more of us UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS than you are, hey-y, so watch out.”