- Waterbed City
- 20 Miles
- Doom Years
- Go Native
- Cindy Rodriguez
- Black Magic City
The Band: Animal Tropical is a quartet of childhood friends that plays an interesting fusion of Vampire Weekend like instrumentals behind a spacey vocal styling similar to that of Animal Collective called Tropical-Pop. This Miami based band is currently unsigned and I can’t figure out why after its 2009 release of Doom Years.
The Review: Animal Tropical’s Doom Years is controlled chaos and absolute lyrical madness played out over 21-minutes of brilliantly constructed instrumentals, complete with classical piano riffs, a bass that leads the listener through a drug induced wonderland, and an upbeat drumming style that doesn’t hesitate to call for tempo changes on a whim.
The opening number, “Waterbed City,” is a trifecta of tracks tacked together to make one hell of a song, its eerie and devilish harmonies, seemingly sung by Lock, Shock, and Barrel from The Nightmare Before Christmas, would not be out-of-place on Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.
“20 Miles” is a Hunter S. Thompson-esque tale of debauchery, the band speeding down a 20-mile stretch of highway in a great white whale of a convertible, wreaking havoc in every venue and upon anyone it comes across, including a Dairy Queen Ice Cream Shop and this chick named Christy that is passed out in the front seat.
The title track is a blueprint that describes how the correct concoction of narcotics can help you cope with the fact that you don’t know where you’re going in life.
“Go Native” is the most unrebellious sounding song of rebellion I have ever heard. The track criticizes western culture with lines like “We eat meat, watch tv, work retail, and never touch a book,” and damns the likes of Columbus for their exploration and corruption of lands and people deemed uncivilized. It calls out to anyone fed up with the ways of the world to simplify things and “Go Native.”
“Cindy Rodriguez” is a song of hope that says it’s never too late to change your mundane life. This leisurely stroll trough the life of a 30-year old ball of fire stuck in the world of a secretary brought a large Cheshire Cat-like grin to my face.
“Black Magic City,” is an upbeat ode to the quartet’s hometown, Miami, and all the costume clad freaks, geeks, and hot chicks that take the streets after dark.
Doom Years is a trip into the psyches of four Floridians that chose to use music and drugs, rather than a therapist, to deal with all the problems life has to offer. Let us offer up thanks to the gods of music for not allowing these guys to find a good head doctor. Because If they had, this wonderful mind-fuck of an album would not exist.