Matt Rendon’s a time-traveling wizard miner with eight arms (or how ever many it takes to play all the instruments on this record). It’s bittersweet. I sure as fuck love the Resonars. Crummy Desert Sound is ‘60s British Invasion gold filtered through lonely-shack, isolated-DIY contemporary Tucson. Think of the rocket vapor over saguaros of Lenguas Largas. In 2013, he’s far from alone in his sound. Chicago’s Treasure Fleet also instantly comes to mind, which is pretty awesome. And I know I’m in the tiny minority when I say that I wait around in the back alleys of musical acceptance, hoping to hear a band that translates The Monks as fluently as The Knockout Pills, but fuck it. I am. Play this for your mom and dad (or are we at grandpa/grandma time? Decades, they pass fast.) and say it’s a long-lost pre-mastered Zombies or Animals record. Give them time to chew it over just to fuck with them. Because, at the root of it, most of those records of the ‘60s, by the time the vinyl got poo’d out and pressed into a disc, after they were fully digested through the intestinal tracts of the recording industry, they lost some of the raw grit and electrical zap of the live performances. Resonars gives you both: the glittering of found gold and the dirty fingernails and glorious sweat of digging in an isolated mine from a sealed-off time. Fuckin’ miner wizard.