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The closest thing the world has to a stoner rock veteran, John Garcia has spent the past 20 years singing with various fuzzmongers, making some great records along the way (and some fairly average ones too).
Finally stepping out under his own name, this is a strident and infectious gaggle of riffed-up romps, pitched somewhere between the languid rumble of Unida and the rampant and rowdy strut of the singer’s heroes The Cult, circa Electric.
Songs like My Mind, Flower and 5000 Miles possess enough of that shimmering Kyuss psych pulse to keep inveterate bong-handlers happy while gesturing wildly towards the world of leather trousers and lascivious swagger that, one suspects, Garcia has always fancied adding to his CV.
