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The Parrots — Weed for the Parrots

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In their latest release, Madrid-based garage punk trio The Parrots reveal a darker side to their rockabilly-infused sound. While “Weed for the Parrots” retains the lively, summery vibe that the band projects, the lyrical content recalls a self-destructive time in frontman Diego Garcia’s life. Thus, the often uncontrollable energy pulsing throughout the EP not only references the fun parts of a party hard lifestyle, but also the downward spiral that comes along with it.

The opening track, “Terror,” starts out with a bloodcurdling scream, quite apt given the title. Channeling a fuzzed-out Dick Dale with surfy, zigzagging guitar riffs and simple drums, the snappy song chugs along for a minute and twenty seconds as Garcia unabashedly howls of stoned paranoia. The exceptionally catchy “White Fang” shows off a slightly more melodic side to Garcia’s vocals during the verses, only to erupt back into spirited yells in the choruses. Adding to the chaotic refrains are echoing gang background vocals and haphazard guitar licks. Later (and just when you thought it wouldn’t be possible) a gnarly guitar solo pumps even more adrenaline into the song. With a bass-only intro, “To the People Who Showed Me Their Love While I Was Here” hints at a brief departure from hyper punk songs. Though the track slows the tempo of the album, it keeps up the genuine spirit behind the songs, as Garcia squawks on with unparalleled attitude. Following a snarling cover of The Almighty Defenders’ “All My Loving,” the EP continues on to “I’m Not Alone.” Another memorable and inspired track, it talks of effortful positivity, as Garcia sings, “I get up, I get up, I get up/And go far away from you.”

With unmatched energy and heart, The Parrots reflect on the all-too- familiar feeling of being stuck in a depressive rut. But with equal spirit, they are pulling themselves out of it — and this ultimate conquest of the bad feels is the most important message to take from the EP. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that all the songs ooze with lo-fi ardor and infectious hooks.

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