Allah-Las

An instrumental shift from perennial faves Allah-Las finds the band dipping back towards their surf soundtrack days while threading through a litany of longtime influences. The surf stamp stays in place, washing upon the listener in waves from the first moments of “Pasiphaé’s” steel drum-like synths and its underscore of actual ocean sounds. The record wanders much further afield, though, self-admittedly twisting webs between The Durutti Column, Popol Vuh, and the synth-scapes of Jacques Cousteau’s natural world. They flirt with funk but retain a salt scrub that’s loose and laconic; a sockless saunter through ‘70s dance that keeps one eye on the neon nightlife and another on the next days tides. There’s a beautiful aimlessness about the record. It’s unencumbered in the best ways; letting the wheels of rhythm drive but the mind wander towards the edges of euphoria.

A soundtrack to existential drift, the record weaves through the kind of stumble down karmic connections that would have made for an excellent Pynchon score. It’s an album for letting go, for letting the needle of fate find the road forward, but always with the sea to one side. The waves are a character in Sirenas, cresting now an again to keep the listener from wandering too far from the path. The band’s grooves guide like a crimped mantra, a guiding hand that pushes the listener towards revelation or relaxation, whichever it is they happen to be looking for at the moment. The ‘Las have always been a beach band at heart, but this is the first time they’ve hooked so hard to an artery of the sun since the days of Social Survival and it feels like a coming home.

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