This is the appeal of Sneeze Weed, the constant battle for the trio to hold these rattling charms aloft whilst a jarring implosion of sound seems never that far off.
Melbourne garage degenerates Bonniwells are back with sophomore effort Sneeze Weed, another scrappy offering of woozy rock that revels in loose delivery and haphazard slackerdom.
Opening with From The Sunn, Marck Dean's guitar lines and warped solo in the final third are infectious, and backed by Zac Olsen's driving rhythms it makes for a cracking number that sets the tone for the rest of the album. Things get even more lo-fi with Lazy Daisy, a plaintive garage pop tune that is as sunny as it is slapdash. Elk Beat and Everyone Say Hello are held in check by John Waddell on bass driving forth the cracked nonchalant vocals, the off-key delivery permeating the band's laissez-faire attitude, whilst Ms Anderson's sex appeal (despite the titular infatuation being one hundred and four) straddles '60s paisley psych pop that barely manages to stay on the rails. The brooding Mongo Pusher and the neo-surf noodling of instrumental Suntan And Freckles revel in their chugging tempo, even as the urgent opening of Crack Man segues into a slow grind psych solo that highlights how unrushed the majority of these rough-hewn gems are.
This is the appeal of Sneeze Weed, the constant battle for the trio to hold these rattling charms aloft whilst a jarring implosion of sound seems never that far off. Despite the relative brevity of the album, it is clear throughout that Bonniwells revel in the unrehearsed jam, and such sinuous interplay is integral to the success of these tracks. The discordant ramble of closer I Smiled Yesterday exemplifies this, ensuring that nothing is taken to heart, nothing is ever too serious, and everything is going to be alright… just.