Big Mean Sound Machine

I remember my first Budos Band show. I showed up with about 7 friends and after the first three minutes I managed to squeeze my way up front at Darkroom in Chicago by myself, and I stayed there for hours. I remember the dim red lights, the guitar player's beard, the guy with the big sax's frosted tips, and then after that it's all horns, sweat and moving around with my eyes closed.

I've become a fiend for that vibe of it being 10pm, I have all night, and I'm slowly making my way through a packed club with two drinks in my hands held over the heads of the throngs of people I'm oozing my way through. When you were young and didn't know any better, it was a Corona evening. But once you learned what horse piss tastes like with a lime, well you wise the fuck up and grab a Zombie Dust and enjoy getting your tongue fucked.

Yes, a good tongue fucking.

That is exactly what Big Mean Sound Machine feels like, but to my fuckable ears. Imagine taking a huge swig of that deliciously golden hoppy nectar and sticking your tongue straight out and feeling each individual bubble massage and stroke your mouth muscle. But in your ears bruh.

Big Mean Sound Machine and their album Ouroboros take the smokey club vibe to the extreme, providing both excitable and relaxed as fuck environs inside a 10 track album I can honestly tell you will stay on the manpod indefinitely. It has the Budos taste but with a crisper, bigger band behind it. The guitar player is fucking sick, le keyboard tickler is tasty as shit, all the horns sound straight out of an early 80's throwback 70's mob flick, and the drummer is on some tight-pocket rip rapes. I hear things I don't think I'm actually hearing, but who am I to question the presence of a cello inside an album as antibalas-ish as this!?!

This is a perfect album people. PERFECT. Now click below and give them $70 dollars for the album and god will save a catholic from a guilt trip for 70 seconds in 70 years.