DEAR GOD DON'T LOOK AT THIS ALBUM ART!!! The Thumb-Busting, Psychedelic Noise of Thee Oh Sees

The late 2000’s and especially the 2010’s saw a bit of a renaissance for psych-rock. The monster there is, of course, Tame Impala. Long before his transition to synthpop, Kevin Parker was blowing up the scene with dark explorations of loneliness and existential angst on songs like “Solitude Is Bliss,” “Why Won’t They Talk to Me?” and “Elephant.” But his unique use of space-pop influences left a massive community of guitar-heads chummed up in his wake.

Lurking beneath the surface all along, however, was John Dwyer and his confusingly named band to deliver a driving, riff-based brand of psychedelic-folk-influenced garage rock. Biding their time and working their way for over a decade until…

Floating Coffin

Thee Oh Sees

Psychedelic Garage Rock | 2013

After reinventing his band from its original Orinoka Crash Suite to OCS in 2003, then Orange County Sound in 2005…then The Ohsees in 2006, … then The Oh Sees in 2007, then eventually (but not finally) Thee Oh Sees in 2008, John Dwyer and company had released eight albums, and would then release a further six albums after settling—for now—on a consistent name, and a consistent sound: a hard, reverb and distortion-laden psychedlic folk heavily influenced by the 2000s garage rock revival. Thee Oh Sees would then release another six albums, slowly shedding their folk influences for head-banging rock ones, before beginning work on their first truly excellent release, Floating Coffin in 2013.

**As a note: there will not be a lot of discussion about lyrics here. Part of the beauty of Dwyer’s writing, and psych-rock revival in general, is a total embrace of nonsensical lyrics that rely much more heavily on how the words’ sounds feel on the ears, rather than how they are actually understood.

I Come From the Mountain

Opener “I Come From the Mountain” has a modernized, clean sound mixed with the speed and chaotic energy of a classic rock-out. As the song enters its longest phase, it brings with it the momentum of a speeding train that does not slow down until the last whammy bar. Dwyer’s vocal are reverbed and layered over multiple times, creating an effect that sounds like he’s shouting…whatever it is he’s shouting over a lifeguard megaphone at the beach, a perfect sonic accompaniment for this surf rock-inspired jam.

Toe Cutter / Thumb Buster

In the terms of my post-high school musical journey, this song is what they would call the “seizing the sword” moment. “Toe Cutter / Thumb Buster” is big, loud, and drenched in distortion. The main riff is repeated over and over, only parts are taken out and brought back, and effects are dampened and revisited as we move in and out of chorus and verse. That chorus, as it is, doesn’t exist lyrically, relying only on that same riff, ramped up to 11, and then paired with a brilliantly simple descending chord progression. The lyrics throughout are totally incomprehensible, save for the “WHOO!” that ends each verse. The track ends the way it began, with the massive guitar refrain blasting through everything. This is a song I have never and will never get tired of, a perfect fit.

Floating Coffin

The title track, much like the opener focuses on playing its surf rock riffs FAST!!!!!! It’s not particularly complex, with its four-note descending falsetto vocals, punk aesthetic, and focus on the psychedelic feel being blasted into you as quickly as possible.

No Spell

The psychedelic vibes are really present here, calling to mind the “See Emily Play” era of Pink Floyd. Softer and much more atmospheric than the previous three songs, “No Spell” is John Dwyer showing off his composition chops, layering guitar on guitar on guitar until the legion strings sound like a real-deal orchestra. In spurts, the mood changes to a hardcore shoegaze wind-up, but it always returns to the more sonically beautiful section. And of course, in true psych rock fashion, it ends with a modulated guitar.

Strawberries 1 + 2

This song, which I’m sure has nothing to do with the horrifying album art, is actually a suite of sorts, if a song under six minutes can be called a suite. Part one is just a crazy good punk-rocking time, all speed and shouted vocals that are drenched in reverb, and crashing guitars soaked in fuzz. The drums deftly change us from part one to part two, a much slower, psychedelic ballad. The drums become jazzier and the bass picks up a lot of the load, carrying this sludgy hypnosis to an immensely satisfying conclusion.

Maze Fancier

The coolest goddamn bassline opens up “Maze Fancier,” propelling the song forward as dual guitars begin harmonizing the main riff. Just like “Toe Cutter,” the track forgoes a traditional chorus to instead highlight the dueling guitars, while during the verses, Dwyer falsettos and whoops his way through a truly addictive surf-punk display of what a properly distorted guitar can do. And all the while, that bass, dear lord that bassline is just otherworldly.

Night Crawler

“Night Crawler” is a highlight if for no other reason than it’s the only very, very much synth-led song on the album. For the most part, those synths are used to give the song a spacey, alien feel, but they’re so prominent that they couldn’t have been an afterthought. They perfectly match the slower, louder, psych rock fuzz guitars and Dwyer’s reverbed, echoing vocals. As the song begins to break down, the synths also impart static and sound effects, making this track one of the most sonically complex on the album, while somehow being the most melodically simple.

Sweets Helicopter

“Sweets Helicopter” is where the album turns to pure vibes, if you didn’t think it did that already. It’s wide open presentation is incredibly chill for how heavy the mix is and how sludgy the guitars are.

Tunnel Time

Another great bassline opens “Tunnel Time,” a space rock jam filled to the brim with an energy that can only be described as “really fucking fun.” It sounds like everyone in the band is having just the best goddamn time, rocking out with their buds. It’s short, it’s sweet, it packs an awesome punch, it has a flute break-down. What’s not to love?

Minotaur

Closer “Minotaur” is one of the best closers in this genre. It’s also the only song where you can actually understand John Dwyer’s lyrics, and oh boy are we going to dig into them. But before we get there, the song opens with the only other really obvious use of synths, this time it’s one clavioline and another masquerading as a double bass. When the drums and guitar come in, they do so with a very late-50’s beach vibe: the percussion is incredibly jazzy, and the guitars lose much of their distortion and only play quick hit power chords or follow along with the synth/bass.

Now about those lyrics. Being that “Minotaur” has the only really discernable lyrics on the album, and that they’re sung essentially in the clear with only a scant echo delay, it’s only appropriate that they also be…pretty serious. Here, Dwyer waxes how our economic system forces people to work endless, monotonous jobs that offer no joy, even in the form of adequate compensation. “The dream upon my lips / Is getting thinner with each day / And yet I’m getting paid,” he sings in the first verse before adding a brutally sarcastic, totally emotionless “la, la, la, la.”

The second verse, comments on how most workplaces, especially those where employees are most likely to encounter dangerous health conditions, don’t provide sick leave. “I get sick at my work everyday / There is no cure but to stay away, without pay,” he sings, before creating an incredibly unsubtle allusion to the actual Minotaur: “And the horns upon my head / Are getting thicker with each day / I take my meals here / I sleep in a maze.”

The final verse turns the metaphor around to make working the Minotaur, “and the dreams in their heads / Cannot be found in the maze, or so they say.” And Dwyer’s recommendation that “there ain’t no cure but to stay home today / Go to the beach instead,” sounds better and better with each passing year.

If the previous song breakdowns didn’t make it obvious, Floating Coffin is an album based entirely on feeling it. It’s best enjoyed on it’s own, all at once, in a single sitting. No, it’s not some high-art concept album that flows seemlessly like a rock opera, but getting lost in the hypnotic rhythms and the static hum of overdriven guitars is ruined when you stop to do something like—eww—work, or skip around on shuffle.

Floating Coffin doesn’t even make it to 40 minutes, but it will stay with you for a lifetime if you let it. Just…promise not to stare at that album art too long.