Record review: Twin Peaks - 'Sunken'

By Gene Wagendorf III

Note: Below is an updated version of a review we first ran in August 2012, in honor of the album's official release this week on Autumn Tone Records.

Twin Peaks sound like a young band. That isn't a slight, nor is it a reference to their age or the length of time they've been playing together. Doe-eyed as they may be, it's their sound that's young. It's refreshing, bubbling over with reckless joy and seemingly boundless energy. I first caught Twin Peaks at The Whip in the summer of 2012 and, truth be told, they're the only band I remember from that night. Say what you will about my borderline alcoholism, the group completely stole the show and left me eager for more. When I first got a hold of Sunken, I was as excited as I was worried. Would the record capture the energy of their live performance? Would the album's production bury their melodies in a lo-fi haze? Was I fondly recalling their set because drunken basement shows are always fun, even if the bands suck?

Sometimes I worry a lot for absolutely no reason. This is one of those times.

The record begins with "Baby Blue," a smooth garage-jangle heavy on fuzz, but tight enough to sustain. The song's slightly stuttered riff unfolds into a charmingly lithe melody that ambles through the distortion with the urgency of a lakefront stroll. The rhythm section is appropriately subdued on the tune, relying on husky vocals to counter the brightness of the lead guitar. Those drums move from a controlled rumble to deliberate and splashy on "Natural Villain," where they snap and tumble against plumes of Buddy Holly-on-Vicodin croons. The jaunt only ceases to be casual at its conclusion, when the thrash picks up to match an almost pained lyric exclamation from charismatic singer Cadien Lake James. By the time the guitars melt down to silence, Sunken seems ready to take off.

Valentine's Day show preview: White Mystery, Twin Peaks at Schuba's, 2/14

By Gene Wagendorf III 

While jewelry stores, florists and fine dining establishments would have you believe otherwise, not every successful Valentine's Day requires Italian food by candle light, a necklace and a dozen roses. Often the best dates of your life will involve seeing some killer live bands, tossing back a few drinks and stumbling into bed for a three-hour fuck session. It's for these deaf, sweaty and oft-inebriated lovers that we suggest you hit up Schuba's on Thursday night, where a couple WCR favorites will be performing for a good cause.

Miss Alex White will has put together a benefit for The Chris Saathoff Foundation, a touching non-profit that "provides support for children in need" and "supports organizations that work to preserve music as an art." Brother/sister duo White Mystery return to Chicago from their riotous European tour just in time to headline the show and play the role of redheaded cupids. Gearing up for the release of Telepathic in April, The Siblings White should be packing a quiver full of fresh tunes. The band's crunchy, stompy garage stylings are both smile-inducing and boogie-friendly, a perfect combo for an amorous evening.

Record review: Twin Peaks - 'Sunken'

By Gene Wagendorf III 

Twin Peaks sound like a young band. That isn't a slight, nor is it a reference to their age or the length of time they've been playing together. Doe-eyed as they may be, it's their sound that's young. It's refreshing, bubbling over with reckless joy and seemingly boundless energy. I first caught Twin Peaks earlier this summer at The Whip and, truth be told, they're the only band I remember from that night. Say what you will about my borderline alcoholism, the group completely stole the show and left me eager for more. When I first got a hold of their debut record, Sunken, I was as excited as I was worried. Would the record capture the energy of their live performance? Would the album's production bury their melodies in a lo-fi haze? Was I fondly recalling their set because drunken basement shows are always fun, even if the bands suck?

Sometimes I worry a lot for absolutely no reason. This is one of those times.