Money Makes You Boring
In fusion cooking as it is in rock & roll, the flavors are not limited to regional specificity, but a blend of from all over place and time. Modern rock comes from a similar stock, often not the sum of it's parts, but it's secret recipe relies more on it's execution. Some of this nouveau cuisine can feel gimmicky; a plate of contrivance. This is not the case for The Monte Vista. We are basically dealing with a dish of ringing guitar rock powerful enough to fill a stadium, but mercifully lacking the hokum and schmaltz usually associated with arena rock. The songs and the voice delivering them possess a distinctive, anthemic punch while maintaining a nuanced earnestness; a sincerity and pertinence absent from most rock singers and rock songs of any era. You can expect a variety of bright hooks emerging, as if through some sort of black magic, from a collective sun-kissed past we've never experienced. Not like something someone did years ago, but something someone should have done years ago. These instantly classic melodies evoke recollections of a vintage year yet to happen. Remember what it was like tomorrow? Remember how it never was? The Monte Vista earns the uncommon distinction of a band whose recent release could place in the classic rock decathalon, nestled somewhere between The White Stripes and Big Star, Tom Petty and The Rolling Stones. The arrangements are clean and bright, boasting a refreshing simplicity like a glimpse of the California coastline through Brit-Rock binoculars. Picture how 60's Garage Rock would have weathered had it bypassed the 70's punk movement altogether and shot straight through the heart of 90's era Seattle. Then add a frontman whose seen the whole trip, although not chronologically, but in a more spiritual sense. It's guacamole and chocolate, tequila and champagne. While you're here, you've got to try The Monte Vista. -Theodore Hume.