Back of the bin
Mr. Divisadero recorded this album ten years ago (or so). They had CDs made. And that was that.
Imagine Ween at once more grandiose and more delicate. The dynamic and emotional sweep of these songs is breathtaking. The production sound is a bit tinny, but that just makes the heart race for those of us with nostalgia for unvarnished albums like The Charm of the Highway Strip.
And, oh, these songs are filled with ambition and verve. Set firmly within the proggy metallic punk of (yes) Ween and the Dickies, Mr. Divisadero manages to forge its own manic footprint. There's a slightly unfinished feel to this album, and that nick in the armor simply adds to the charm.
Do I want Mr. Divisadero to reform and create a follow-up? Hell no. This album is from a place (San Francisco) and time (mid-2000s) that really doesn't exist. For starters, there are no more music rehearsal spaces in the city of San Francisco any more. Blame Google or whatever, but the forces that produced this album do not exist today. You can't go back to the way things were, but you can always appreciate the finer things in life. Like this album.
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