PAWS sound like the kind of band Jack Kerouac would dream up after his second or third absinthe. Blending 80s bombast with 90s slacker rock, the thoroughly otherworldly Glaswegian three-piece make music you could lose your mind to.
Ticking off the Holy Trinity of Love, Death and Hate within the first three tracks, Cokefloat is floor-to-the-floor unadulterated guitar goodness. Opening number ‘Catherine 1956’ deals with the death of lead singer Philip Taylor’s mother and is probably as fine a musical tribute anybody has ever been paid. ‘Jellyfish’ is more of a ramshackle groove, throwing together some prime guitar fuzz and Klashnekoff drums whilst ‘Homecoming’ is the broadside all bands wish they could fire at the doubters, haters and all-round idiots many of them had to deal with growing up. Hopefully the line “How many of your dreams have come through/I’ve turned mine into sing-a-longs” stings more than a few ears.
‘Boregasm’ is the perfect mid-album stroller, with it’s a powerful bass driven intro and skyscraper high chorus. Next song ‘Sore Tummy’ is a winner in anybody’s book simply for managing to squeeze in the line “Junkies have beautiful eyes”.
The slower ‘Get Bent’ sounds out of place but order is quickly restored when things get turned up to 11 on the Dinosaur Jr scale on ‘Miss American Bookworm’. ‘Bird Inside Birdcage, Ribcage Inside Bird’ should have been a Distillers single whilst final song ‘Poor Old Christopher Robin’ rounds off the 40 minute adventure with yet more glorious sonic surfing.
Cokefloat is an album where no two songs sound the same and the only constant is the unexpected. Choruses are stacked on top of choruses, with the band forever selling rope-a-dope hooks when you think they’ve reached the zenith of their harmonies. Making something genuinely interesting – they are well on the road to musical heroism.