Some will have heard, some won’t have heard; all should have heard.
Howlers, four-piece from Minneapolis; nothing new, but better than the rest.
Semi-colons aside, Howler’s are the Mark II of the low-fi surf vibe that has arisen in recent times, with the like of Wavves and Lovvers leading the charge. The ‘W’ in Howler elegantly unites the double ‘V’ which seems so adamant in representing this progression in chilled out indie.
Clean swept melodies trickle from the necks of electric guitars, before evolving into a gritty fuzz, while the gentle sway of chords, often torn prematurely from the keyboard’s womb, compliment drum beats that are as simplistic and addictive as lego. All shit aside, Howler attain to a simple, practiced recipe of summer, beach music, but instead of using supermarket ingredients, they grow their own.
Imagine for a second, a troupe on the beach of California, wind swept surfer hair on every guy, the odd tattoo on a bikini clad girl here and there, paste in a ghetto blaster with a better version of the Strokes/Vaccines playing low-fi and loud, with all present jumping about and making out; you have the scene that Howler’s songs create.
This is a band for happy days, a band that bring together friends to drink and dance a little, if nothing else. This is a child’s wet dream upon knowing in the morning they’re going to Disney Land (Florida, not Paris).
Howler’s debut album is ‘America Give Up’, out Jan 16th.