Inhale. Hold it. Goooooaaaattt!!
It’s kinda the only immediate, appropriate response to The Dirty Ones, the new, raging slab from San Francisco garage-heshers, Lost Goat. We’re not talking about rocket science, here. But if you were interested in rocket science, you prolly wouldn’t be reading about a band called Lost Goat. So here we are. The setup is familiar — guitar, bass, drums, vocals — and, for the most part, so is the delivery. But somewhere between bassist-singer Erica Stoltz’s hyper-dramatic, paranoid classic-rawk wail and a production sound that lets you know exactly what the band’ll sound like when you’re standing, double-fisting Budweisers in a flea-bitten dive, taking the sound in, Lost Goat manages a go-for-broke swaggering appeal.
Guitarist Eric Peterson rocks the sinewy blooz riffage and drummer Tina Gordon lets the beat hang loose-limbed around the Goat’s going-nowhere-fast-and-enjoying-the-buzz pace. The whole affair feels like Southern-fried Sabbath stuck in the North woods howling to either scare off trespassers or to attract would-be rescuers and then eat them.
Sure, there are dozens of bands trolling similar waters, crammed into late-model Econolines taking in Waffle Houses between stops in midsized towns offering free beer, a place to crash and at least a couple dozen die-hards who care enough to raise their fist for the big riff. However, but for a few production tweaks here and there and a whitewashing of lyrical content, there’s also a hundred sub-Lost Goat quality bands touring on a label’s dime and clogging up the rock radio airwaves on the back of payola cashish. Lost Goat sticks to its guns and — judging by the evidence presented on The Dirty Ones — rocks and walks the talk. If that ain’t enough to keep you off the Puddle of Mudds, Godsmacks and tired alt/classic-rock retreads clamoring for your cash, then ignore Lost Goat.
There may be nothing new under the sun, but Lost Goat is at least a true rock believer. Fire up.
E-mail Chris Handyside at firstname.lastname@example.org.