Breadcrumb Dish

This shit has me fucking blunted. The Clams Casino ep, Rainforest, is on its way and it's a deep, reverberating slice of something magical.

Rainforest EP by clammyclams

I don't mean to sound redundant, as you're going to be reading about this piece of Tri-angle Records goodness in basically any publication that does more than cover uncle-rock (so, yeah, not in PASTE, but that's fine, let your Uncle read PASTE, he's really curious what The Drive-By Truckers are up to), but this is an EP that's made for taking drugs and putting headphones on and wandering around in the summer heat. In that regard, it's a soul-cousin to Beck's Midnite Vultures. Clams is a little more haunted, though, and I think he's warning about something. It loses the plot, the EP does, at times, and stumbles through the titular jungle in search of...what? It remains to be seen what that is, but the sweaty, dirty taste of the Rainforest is enough to occupy one summer.