The Golden Falcons
Another rawkin' multiguitar Texas band, Dallas' the Golden Falcons
, flies into town this week. But rather than bounce power chords off folks' skulls, these guys seem intent on saving indie fans from the post-hardcore blues. All dirt and snarl on their early demos, the Falcons have grown into an octet that grinds together robotic postpunk, hardcore and psychedelic electro lunacy into a jubilant, driving mix that climaxes in choruses echoing with feedback and joy. Leading the pack of virtual drugged-up superheroes is insanely tall (we're talking 7 feet) Robert Dunlap, whose growling baritone gets air support from wild-ass guitarist Joshua Weber's pterodactyl-like screeches while keyboardist Jonny Mars lets loose with sonic flying-saucer attacks. "We throw a party, and people pay to come," says drummer Jared Jackson of the Falcons' live shows. Fortunately, that mentality hasn't hurt the band's productivity. The Falcons' self-released debut, The Honduras Album
, is a dynamic gem, boasting a Pavement cover so sick and brutal it'd make Stephen Malkmus pass out.