“When you were mine, only mine/ When you were mine, I didn’t have the time/ When you were mine, now I kinda wanna die/ And that’s the truth straight, you know it all along.”
A familiar sentiment? For sure – you never know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone though mercifully, here to alleviate the loss are La Luz – a very much palpable entity there for the grasping, and with that one of the most palatable surf acts perhaps ever to have come out of Seattle. Period. Four carefree ladies whose craft centres around the mesmeric songwriting talents of doo-wop enthusiast and whammy bar aficionado Shana Cleveland, their Damp Face EP of yesteryear is a todal tour de force in terms of Tarantino-inspired, hi-fi garage groove and Sure as Spring is its Big Kahuna. It’s a real ripper; a compelling swell of organ solos, tight drums and turbulent crashes of bass line – the sonic equivalent of being given the eyes by an enraged Beatrix Kiddo, and it’s a quite terrifying glare all of their own that they’ve got going on.