The great folks at No Fear Of Pop just posted a reveiw of our latest tape, ‘Faster Acid Sun’
Not entirely sure if anyone noticed, but Omma Cobba‘s self-titled LP on Sweet Rot Records made my year-end list, and rightfully so (in all modesty). Anyway, the folks around mastermind Daniel Miller have just delivered another gemstone of delightfully fuzzed-out, mesmerizing psychedelic garage with just the right amount of classic blues and folk leanings, the eight-track cassette Faster Acid Tongue, the purchase of which shall hereby be considered mandatory. Listen to “Greet Us” below, the album’s slightly melancholic, beautifully sundrenched standout track.
Bruised Tongue records out of Ottawa has just released a full length, 8 track tape that we’re really excited about. It mainly consists of recordings from Europe that didn’t make it on the LP, so it’s great to have these tunes see the light of day.
Omma Cobba’s self-titled debut is so blurry and hazy you can barely read the track listing on the back cover. Working between the vague boundaries of blues, folk, and early rock, the Halifax-born Toronto-based band claims to have recorded most of its album in an RV while travelling across Europe. True or not, the reverb-drenched production and trails of echoing vocals do effortlessly evoke the mysteries of the open road.
Most songs stick to the thump of a single drum accompanied by a maracca or tambourine, a sparse bass line rendered as a throb, and a few insistent guitar chords. Singer Dan Miller’s vocals provide variety, ranging from an effortless drawl on “Some People Say You’re No Good” to perfect wordless harmonies on “Policeman.”
Omma Cobba channel half-remembered twangs and echoes into something filled with sadness and wonder, evoking the morose ballads of Japanese psychedelic group Les Rallizes Dénudés. The result is low-key, relaxed, and shockingly good. —Simon Frank
Feel the coarse, desert grain fade as the scarubs march fringeward to the beat of Omma Cobba. Slurs of popular bass emanate from the fringes of oases while the vacant desert melts away to Cobba’s burning morning chrome; a hazy trip through opium dens of merino acid and cashmere horses. Welcome the new dawn with dusted lungs and eyes brimming with theta waves. 12″s of polyvinyl glory ripe for the gripping.