Five youngbloods curl their hands around instruments and throttle it. Their sound is raw, immediate. Garage psych played from 2018. The band is Gamjee.
They bash it out, another evolution of rock’s bastard mutation. Orphan sonics of the seventh son of a seventh son. The latest progeny of a mongrel breed.
At their best moments – ‘Monday In Bed’ not the least – this Melbourne outfit sound a little like Ty Segall. There’s likely a hint of King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard to this DNA too. But these fuzz rockers drink from deeper waters still.
It’s perhaps unintentional, but ‘William H. Vanderbilt’s Vampire’ rumbles forth so darn near to psychotic it sounds psychobilly. ‘Welcome The Seeds’ plays like pastoral psych folk. These brethren never linger on any one idea all that long.
More important is raw excitement. Crooked’s vocals come accompanied by sheer and visceral sounds. Passion and frenzy. Gamjee jump from moment to moment, throttling between inspired accidents. Before too long the extended-player rattles toward its anthemic close.
Genre sticklers begone from these here sonics. To be boxing this debut as product is to be missing the point. What’s important is that this group is sounding righteous.
Rock may be dead, but its bizarre cult continues. A new generation looks up to torn posters of heroes past, aspiring not to imitate but to create like these figures did too at their most inspired. If the music feels it, feels like it’s a happening thing - to the audience and those playing it – then let it rock. So long as it comes played from the heart.
Crooked sounds like it is. Rich, strange and from the borders of anything possible, it’s a vital record. If there’s any impression which remains after the songs subside it’s that it’s imperative these five continue to crank.
Words by Riley Fitzgerald