Shalants

Shalants produce a distinctly Californian sound: a mash-up of Mexican, Native American, Chinese, settler culture and pioneer spirits. The Northern California four-piece splits their time between San Francisco and the alpine wilderness of Shasta County, and their music is informed by everything between the Delta and the Bay. They recall a bygone era, but their music is not retro, and their new, self-titled album is a tour de force and a statement of purpose. The band draws inspiration from California's terrain and topography. Their darkness emerges from the fog and the forests, and their playfulness and curiosity from the giants in the Shasta Cascades, their friends in the Sierras and the rivers and meadows that wind around the canyons. But ultimately what makes the band so intriguing, whether it be by their live show or recorded work, is their subtle dynamics, voodoo telepathy and warlike approach to performing. They will cut you down, but they'll also bury you afterward, and make a little cross. Shalants' highlights include the dub-influenced, lyrically dense "Riverbanking," the urgent propulsive plea of "When It Comes," the swinging, shimmering voodoo of "The Mercury Twins," the forlorn waltz of "Black Jewels" and the gentle melancholy of "The Deserter." It's an album-length dose of mania and wonder via a cocktail of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Tom Waits, The Walkmen, Bob Dylan and Neil Young.