Reverends

The roots-tinged Reverends specialize in slowed-down soundscapes with a dash of shoegaze. The Atlanta five-piece just released a slow-burning new album, The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday, which is equal parts in debt to Mac DeMarco, Futurebirds and Beach House. Their sophomore LP The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday arrived in May. —Ellen Johnson - Paste Magazine

A survey of albums released over the last 12 months reveals that 2019 was a charged year for Atlanta musicians. OMNI rolled out a stellar Sub Pop debut, Sister Sai and Visitors stamped in time the creative incubator that was South Broad Street, and Cloak blazed a path into new depths of blackened metal and rock ‘n’ roll. Across the board, the city’s most prolific artists made no compromises, looking deep within themselves to push the music forward.

Metal ruled in 2019, and that’s no embellishment. Paladin’s white-hot shred fests, Vimur’s cosmic journeys into haunted dimensions of the mind, and Sadistic Ritual’s confrontational dirges took shape with supernatural force. On the flipside, more reflective songwriters such as Rose Hotel’s Jordan Reynolds, and Drivin N’ Cryin’s Kevn Kinney respectively unleashed rich new chapters in their catalogs. During many a midday Zen walk through Woodruff Park, I lingered in the distance while the sounds of Allen Thomas of the Family Orchestra busking with an MPC filled the air — expanding on the beats, rhythms, and grooves of his most recent release. Shepherds also looked deep within the psyche to flesh out a different perception of art and the male ego, while Lobsterdamus commanded us all to raise our claws up and dive headlong into the future while having a bit of fun.

On a personal note, I cannot recall a year in recent history that was teeming with so much good music. These are the albums that define the year in Atlanta music. - Creative Loafing

Over the past ten years or so, psychedelic rock has slowly itched it’s way into the mainstream. With bands like Tame Impala releasing one of the best mainstream rock albums of 2015, it’s obvious the masses have become far more welcoming to the genre since it’s renaissance in the early 2000s. It’s a style of music that requires tremendous amounts of creative freedom and some major labels aren’t willing to take the risk by pushing acts that delve too deep into experimentation. This is where independent labels take full advantage of the movement and release music from artists who exactly fit in among the standard conventions of radio-friendly singles.

Earlier this year, the vinyl-only Knoxville based label Fat Elvis Records put out a double A sided 7″ from the Atlanta natives, Reverends. As superficial as it may sound, I picked it up based on the trippy psychedelic art work by Darren Grealish and the vibrant limited edition color variants. Despite never hearing of the band beforehand, it became one of my favorite singles of the year with it’s droning guitars and reverb heavy vocals. It was interesting enough to pre-order their full length debut Derealization Blues just a few months later, becoming one of my most anticipated releases.

Derealization Blues delivers exactly what that single promised within the first minute of it’s opening track “You Don’t Want To Know”.

Distorted static drones, power chords driven through psychedelic auto-wah effects, and reverb laced vocals, starting the listener on their journey of the seductive unknown.

At a relatively short seven songs, Reverends manage to showcase a certain familiarity with it’s influences, like the Jesus & Mary Chain flavored “Witch City” and “SomeHighSun” with it’s grinding static and shoegaze pace. They channel some Dolly Rocker Movement on my favorite track on the album “Wakin’ Up”, and maybe even a hint of Black Angels in “The Local Honey”. The near seven minute “$70” is a fever dream of ominous debauchery while the title track is an unexpected melancholy love song that’s both heartbreaking and delicate. Even at it’s most familiar, the record never feels like a shallow cash-in, but a worthy contender in the psychedelic revival. Each song is an open and closed tale that acts as a sampler to the beautiful and the macabre.

Where Derealization Blues truly excels is found in it’s execution.

Everything is dirty and lo-fi without being heavy handed or pretentious. There’s plenty of distortion and grit but the kind that can’t be found with a multi-million dollar producer in a Los Angeles high rise.There’s nuance and subtle hints of imperfection not found on major releases. The distinctive production sounds as if the album was recorded guerilla style in a living room, before finding it’s way into the hands of the two indie labels releasing it.

Derealization Blues is a joint release from the aforementioned Fat Elvis Records and the eclectic Colorado based Fonoflo Records. The coming together of these labels seems fit the vibe of this album perfectly. Reverends’ lo-fi do-it-yourself mentality is not unlike other releases from the label like American Goon and Fantastic Negrito, while the art-meets-heart sentimentalism found on Fonoflo releases such as last year’s Riverhorse, gives the physical release some grounding with it’s art direction.

In addition to a standard clean white and black and white splatter variants, both labels are offering the album in a limited number of special variants such as ‘Brain Matter Splatter’, and an super cool clear record filled with glitter and floating eyes, that will make a perfect display piece in any audiophile’s collection.

Derealization Blues makes good on my expectations based on the single earlier this year.

Featuring the temptation of mysterious uncertainty, while delivering some unexpected vulnerability in quite a few of the songs. If I only had one complaint it would be in the overall length of the record. At only seven songs (nine counting the bonus tracks found in the digital version) it feels like it’s just getting started before ending abruptly. However if an album leaves you wanting more, is it really such a bad thing?

Rating: 4.5/5 - Bearded Gentleman Music blog

On The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday, Atlanta’s Reverends blends sunny psychedelia with shoegaze’s droning iciness, which is perfectly represented by the cold and surreal album cover.

Lead by Rev. Dandy Lee Strickland, the band cranks out melancholic dirges here that feel both isolated and yet also dreamy, like the after effects of a burned out bender. Their sound is reminiscent of the drone-heavy early ‘90s output of The Brian Jonestown Massacre, but with the addition of the lysergic sneer of a young Robyn Hitchcock.

From the dazed rumblings of “The Great Roadrunner” to the catchy as hell “Sometimes I…,” this is a record that would appeal to a wide audience, including fans of My Bloody Valentine, Dinosaur Jr, and even Tame Impala.

Perhaps one of the strongest aspects of the record is its endless supply of passion. In songs like “8 Million,” Strickland’s vocals cry out with a visceral longing, while purifying walls of howling guitars roar recklessly behind him. This element, which flows throughout much of the LP, instantly makes your heart remember past loves and painful regrets with a wistful nostalgia. This facet of the record helps to keep it on or near your turntable at all times.

Reverends will drape you with a dreamy emotional haze, no matter who you are. See for yourself today, by grabbing their album on colored or standard vinyl here. - Record Crates United

In early 2016, I stumbled upon the Atlanta-based noise rock outfit Reverends. It may sound superficial but it was the psychedelic artwork of their debut 7″ that hooked me in. A few months later saw the release of their debut album Derealization Blues and it became one of my favorite releases of the year! Soon after that, Reverends were pretty quiet. I heard they were working on new music but nothing was being leaked. I honestly thought Reverends were done. Oddly enough, with the announcement of The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday, I was both right and wrong.
Little did I know, Reverends’ mastermind, Dandy Lee Strickland was in a mental, emotional, and creative crisis.

Between lineup changes and personal demons, Strickland was traveling a road that could’ve easily meant certain doom. However, he turned it around and brought a new record with him!

I recently had the opportunity to talk with Strickland where we discuss the new Reverends album, The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday and the crazy journey he has been on getting it released.

Coop: For those who don’t know, what/who is Reverends?

Dandy Lee Strickland: We’re a group of friends, a bunch of Southern boys from Atlanta and it’s environing who like to watch youtube and drink beer together. Kyle Jones is the drummer, he started the band with me many moons ago. The group is currently me, Kyle, Andy Watts, Matt Boehnlein, and Henry “Jackhammer” Buxbaum. We’re stun balls good.

What kind of music would you describe Reverends as?

I’ve always found this to be one of the most difficult riddles in the world. I’ve been training myself to try and do better answering it, yet no matter how much I try words seem to fail me. I suppose you could say we’re psychedelic music with a southern tinge, but I don’t believe that’s entirely accurate. My friend Annette Zilinskas said we’re “ethereal sounding mixture of poignant and evocative vocals, guitar distortion and effects, feedback, and all at an overwhelming volume.” You have to trust her, she’s a rock n roll legend.

The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday is a bit of a departure for Reverends. In what way does it differ from your first LP?

I feel like it’s a good thing people think of it as a departure. I look at it as growth. A lot of people enjoy the first record, and I think there are some good things there. But I personally can’t listen to it without thinking “Listen to that stupid kid”. We’ve become better musicians, and we’ve learned to use the studio better. I know I’ve become a better writer and I’ve become bolder with my voice and my words. I’m not afraid like I used to be.

I feel like I used to do a lot of hiding, maybe this record is more of a coming-out party than anything. I tried to be more honest with this record, I feel like honesty is such a huge factor in the type of art we want to achieve and so much of what I hear isn’t honest. But it’s still Reverends, there’s still huge drums and noisy guitars, we’re just better now.

It took a minute for The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday to come together.

It did take a minute. Honestly, if normal things had occurred after our debut record, there would have been at least one record between these two. In hindsight I’m very glad there isn’t, I couldn’t imagine it being as good as this. Regardless, this was a difficult record to make. A lot happened to us both good and bad and I think that this record reflects that. Hot Dan Strickland, our bassist, my cousin and one of my greatest friends in the world left the band. That was weird because it was like when Bobby Cox retired. We’d be playing a show and I kept thinking “where is he?” It was just so odd for me and Kyle that he was gone, that delayed it a bit.

Did he leave during the making of The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday?

We had already started recording at our favorite studio and getting pretty deep into it and everything fell apart. It was something out of our control. I thought I was done and we were fucked. I felt like we were so close and my baby had been snatched from me. It felt like I was going to die and I’d never left a mark. I got really low and took it really hard. It was a genuine mindfuck.

Luckily, Andy Watts had recently come in as the new guitarist. His old band would open for us for years and I always thought man, I’d really like to poach him. Our guitarist wasn’t working out so I asked Andy to come in and he agreed. It was like when the Braves traded for Fred McGriff. We had a stud in our lineup that really breathed in some fresh air and is honestly one of the most killer guitar players I’ve ever heard. When Hot Dan left, Andy asked his cousin Matt Boehnlein to join and when Matt came in I was like, holy fuck, why didn’t Andy tell me he was keeping Johnny Greenwood in his basement? I could tell they were really excited to be in the band.

Did they bring anything to the table in terms of getting back on track?

So when we went into the studio and things fell apart, we lost our recordings or whatever, I felt like those guys really held things together. I remember asking Andy “What are we going to do?” And he confidently said, “We’ll record it ourselves, Matt will engineer it.” I remember the specific moment I talked to Matt about it and he had this look in his eye, he said “We’ll build our own studio and we’ll have this done. It’ll take a year but it’ll be better this way.” I remember believing him. So we set forth.

It isn’t common for an indie band to build a legit studio!

We started building the studio in the basement of their house which we call the Manor. We gave my brother some beers and a guitar in exchange for his carpentry skills. I watched Matt splice together all the cables and hang the sound traps. It was a lot of work and it was slow, but I feel like the patience and discipline was reflective in the music. Nothing sounds rushed on the record, it sounds perfected. Nothing is over-baked. I think this entire year it took to do everything is very reflective of that.

We tracked it there over a process of months in the basement, Matt putting the microphones up- Andy too- and recording it, mixing it. Playing the instruments. Matt spent a ridiculous amount of time working to make this record good and he deserves a lot of recognition for it. I actually don’t know how HE didn’t lose his mind. Maybe he did and didn’t mention it. Either way, it’s a story that needs to be told. We worked really hard and nobody spent a dime on it but us. But hopefully, the next one will be wrapped in a much shorter time!

Right. Bands with zero funding tend to put out better records. Pouring life into a project is far more lucrative than pouring money anyway. Did that ever feel overwhelming?

There was a point where- I guess after the big bullshit hit the fan with our initial sessions – where I felt so overwhelmed and defeated by things that I nearly gave up. I hate to say that or to admit that, but I did feel that way. Although I remember seeing how much it meant to the other guys, especially the new guys.

I mean, they were fans of ours before they joined the band and they’re professionals- I think them being a part of a band they really liked inspired them to really take the reigns and make things happen. I remember thinking at one point, when I was at my most lugubrious – that I’d do this record and make it the best possible record I could – not for myself but for them and Kyle who’s devoted so much time to this. They were already trying so hard and I felt so dead in the water and defeated. I was just trying to make it through the day and get to the next. They made me feel like this record was going to be really special and I felt like there was no way we could fuck it up – the energy was too good. It kept me going.

That had to weigh on you, both mentally and emotionally. What kind of mental state were you in at that point?

I was in a really really bad place and bad things were happening to me. I wasn’t healthy, definitely not happy and people were concerned. My life was in this insane house in Northwest Atlanta in an industrial area, far away from anything really.

Plus I was alone a lot and the house was a total wreck. The city built this speed bump outside so that every time one of the trucks from the industrial area came through it would shake like an earthquake, and I mean that literally. It would jar me awake at night. Pens would roll off my desk.

Around this time is when the thing happened with our initial sessions. And I have to say having your art taken from you and essentially held hostage is one of the most difficult things in the world. I can’t imagine what it’s like on a grander scale where great musicians lose their catalog like Moby Grape, but I felt defeated, abused. Whatever.

Jesus, that’s heartbreaking.

It was hard. Also, I had basically stopped working to do our initial sessions, I was living off a little bit of money my grandparents left me. I figured they wouldn’t have minded if I used that money to Live and committed myself wholly to the music. I took it really hard when I realized that money went to naught. It just seemed like nothing good was happening.

Was there ever a light at the end of the tunnel?

I was holed up in my depression dungeon for a few weeks before some sun literally started shining a little more. I remember the first day that kind of felt like spring Matt drove over and took me to a park. We sat and looked at the river and had some beers and talked about the record we were going to make. It felt really nice.

I decided I was going to throw everything I could into this and make it the best possible record it could be. I got a real job on the graveyard shift for a while where I literally felt like I didn’t have human contact for days, and the hours I wasn’t spending at that real job I spent writing. There are literally demos of me working on songs that are interrupted with sounds of my house being jolted around. It’s funny to me now, but that was dark shit.

During the darkness, did you try to reach out to anyone?

I found inspiration in a person far away that I Love a lot. I’d known about this person for a while and I suppose she became my muse. She’s strong but gentle and wholly awe-inspiring. That existence inspired me too, and I believe she knows that. I wanted to give her something special. She came to Life for me much the way the record did.

So I thought about her, I thought about my great friends and bandmates, I thought about myself, my mother and father and my brother who I’ve become very close to in the last couple of years- and I must admit I thought a lot about the naysayers and assholes who tried to bring me down. I realized a change was necessary in my Life to keep me going but I wasn’t sure what. I decided this record and those people would be the reason for this transition and change.

What did that change look like?

One of my best buddies Schwab and I went up to Crater Lake for a few days and I had an experience there at the edge of the lake where I basically exorcised a lot of demons from my head. I looked up at the sky and dipped my toes in the frigid water of the lake and said: “I am become Dandy, singer of songs”. I realized I was getting the opposite of younger, and it was time, to be honest with myself and the world. Do this or check-out.

And I know in a world where refugee children are being torn from their parents and locked in cages it’s almost ridiculous for me to say, but I felt like I had to stand up to some adversity myself for Reverends to make this record, and I’m very happy that we were able to dig in deeper when it came knocking. So to answer your earlier question- I feel like I can honestly say I poured my entire life into this record and I know the other guys gave a lot too.

How do you approach making an album? Do you have a theme or just wing it with a collection of songs?

This record wasn’t anything like making our first record. Our first record I remember we wrote some songs, paid for some studio time with our favorite guys in town and went and recorded it in the days we paid for and that was it. I feel this record was shaping to be that too, but when things got difficult and we ended up recording it ourselves it became a different beast. The initial sessions, which I have recordings of but am not allowed (nor do I want to) release it sounds like a bunch of different songs.

But when we decided to build our own studio and do everything ourselves with only our own money the songs became more focused and cohesive. Andy really helped me realize there was a theme too. I feel sometimes Andy understands my writing better than I do, and he really helped me to see where it was going.

“Forever 23” is probably my personal favorite track on The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday!

That may have been the first song I wrote for this record. I remember it was an idea I’d been kicking around for a little while but not until Andy joined the band did I really have someone who could help flesh it out. I remember showing it to him and he helped record a demo for us in under an hour.

Andy helped me see what was good about it. I drove home listening to it and I thought “Oh, wow” and realized where we were going. I finished the lyrics that night. The song was about the moment I figured out that my best friend and I totally weren’t best friends anymore. We were on the rooftop of our house in Portland watching the sunrise. I ran away. That’s what I did back then. I ran away. I remember she and I would always talk about what would happen when we turned 23.

What happened when you turned 23?

Well, shortly after on my 23rd birthday I found myself in a CAT scan machine. My body had turned against itself and I had to relearn how to walk, how to hold a toothbrush. I was in a lot of pain and the medicine was expensive. I understood our imbroglio better after that experience. “Forever 23” was like therapy so I kept going.

There’s definitely a lot of “the way it was” and “what could have been” nostalgia on The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday.

Our first LP, Derealization Blues, was put out by Fat Elvis Records and Fonoflo. Fonoflo was in Colorado and Fat Elvis was in Tennessee. When the first pressings sold out they decided to do some repressing of it and when the guy from Fonoflo mailed the records to Fat Elvis in Tennessee they never arrived. Sean Russell- who runs Fat Elvis and by the way saved Reverends by investing in our first record- contacted me and asked me to go to the dead letter office in Atlanta to search for them. It was no use, they were gone.

At that point, the guys decided to cut their losses, which sucked because they really invested a lot in us. But suddenly one day I got an email in the band account. It was from a professor of Slavic studies in Colorado. He told me Svetlana Boym was his professor at Harvard. I knew of Svetalana Boym because she wrote The Future of Nostalgia. I had a friend who highly recommended that book to me years before.

The same book is on my to-read list but I’ve never gotten around to it.

Before she passed away she had set it up so that some of her favorite students could go choose selections from her library in Massachusetts. He boxed-up a bunch of books and addressed them to himself in Colorado and they didn’t show up.

That’s a really cool idea!

Then finally the box arrived months later and it was full of Reverends records! Apparently, both those boxes broke next to each other in a postal distribution facility in Colorado. I apologized to him that he didn’t get his books which must have been very special to him and got our stinking Reverends records instead.

He said no, this is great. This is exactly what Svetlana would have wanted. If she were here to have seen this…she would have Loved it especially since it’s called “Derealization Blues”. And he asked me to do him a favor. He asked me to write a song for her.

Wow! That had to be a trip! How could you turn that favor down!?

Now, I’d never written a song that way. Ever. But it was a challenge and I forced myself to do it. That song was written the first time Matt and I played it together. Andy and Kyle, the first time they played it together it was finished.

I don’t think songs could be written faster. I felt like I just found it floating in the air. It was truly a transformative experience to step up to the microphone in our brand-new studio and sing those words for the first time and hear them in my headphones. Just like it was when I sang it to my far-away muse in her bed, and it was as if she already knew every word. I felt like everything was going to be okay. I felt like Svetlana had sent us this gift of direction and we were celebrating her.

The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday feels a bit more personal compared to previous Reverends releases. What is it about?

When I wrote “That Was Hell”, I originally intended for it to be called “That Was Hell, This is Now” something my old friend Russ said once. But I feel like it kind of sums up what this record is about. There are some really sad stories on this record, but there is some optimism too.

But personally, it’s very heavy. About halfway through the making of the record, I realized the 7 of the 8 songs on it were written on my friend’s acoustic who had died. When I got it from him it was one of the last times I’d seen him. That definitely affected the writing.

I definitely picked up on the personal vibes not usually found on Reverends records.

There’s a period in there when I went to Portland as a young man hoping to find this peaceful, loving music scene where I could knock the ball out of the park but really found a lot of older guys who kind of shit on me along with other problems. I think about going home with my tail between my legs, my underachieving, booze, women, being stupid. That’s in there.

I think about Kristofferson walking down the street hungover on a Sunday morning with the Derealization Blues, the church bell ringing and it echoing through canyons. I feel that personally, it’s about the friends I’ve made and I’ve lost, my brain cells that have fallen victim at my own hands, the feeling that sometimes all I have left is regret, and getting better and trying to make something out of all of those experiences.

Do you have a favorite song on The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday?

I’m very proud of all of them. I think it changes daily. I’ve noticed there isn’t a consensus for a favorite one. Everyone seems to like a different one. I think “8 Million” is super rad because it’s just fucking psychedelic and I never would have had the balls to do that song before.

I remember singing those words when we were trying to record it and being like “no no, you’re not Robyn Hitchcock” and I tried to re-write them in the studio. Andy talked me out of it. He said go be Dandy Lee Strickland right now!

Do you plan on going to tour The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday? What can we expect from Reverends live show?

We are. We have the best band right now it’s insane. Hank is playing bass now and he rules so Matt’s playing guitar and I don’t have to do anything on stage but sing. I think everyone is really relieved. This band can jam too. We’re playing old Reverends tracks better than ever and of course, really stun balls new ones. People seem to really like it.

Any artist (within reason) you’d really like to tour with?

We’ve opened for Dead Meadow a few times and their fans always really like us. I really like stoned audiences because they never clap until the song is over. They’d be cool, I’d really Love to play with Primal Scream or Willie Nelson. Is that reasonable?

Why Should we check out The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday from Reverends?

Because some very talented people put their everything into it. I hope they feel like they’ve heard something honest and human. I hope it reassures them about…something. - The Bearded Gentleman

There’s an almost Bowie-esque sound at times to the vocals of Dandy Lee Strickland, the frontman of Atlanta five-piece Reverends, and on single ‘Hi/Lo’ he uses his voice to create a sorrowful lyric over the top of what must be some of the dreamiest music in the state of Georiga.

‘Hi/Lo’ is lush in a Mazzy Star kind of way musically. The guitars are beautiful and the melancholia that washes over the track is dazzling. The song is delicate & graceful. But it’s sad. And it’s a sadness we can all relate to. But sometimes in sadness you can find strength and that’s how ‘Hi/Lo’ makes you feel. It’s ok to ache. It’s a natural part of life. - Indie Midlands

“Because I’ve been here too many times,” a line from “The Greater Roadrunner” by Atlanta-based psychedelic rock band seems poignant in a song about repeating the same patterns with a relationship whose fulfillment in a larger sense is ultimately elusive. The hypnotic, stretching, distorted melody of the song and its vivid and evocative tonal range sounds both world weary and amused at one’s own folly at the same time. But that maybe the realizations will stick this time even though the person in question has the power to draw you back in almost intuitively and instinctively the way Wile E. Coyote seems unable to stop chasing the Roadrunner from the cartoon. Except that Wile E. Coyote doesn’t know better and you should. “I have to be that guy, that fuckin’ guy,” the line preceding the aforementioned speaks so directly to the well-earned frustration it would be comedic if it weren’t just too real. Watch the kaleidoscopic video on YouTube and follow Reverends at the links below where you can give the group’s new album The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday in full as well. - Queen City Sounds

Atlanta psych 5-piece Reverends drifted into our musical landscape in 2016 with a sole 7" pulsating with 'Psychocandy' fuzz called 'Dark Demon', then quickly followed up the hype with a full-length the same year. Titled 'Derealization Blues', it was immediately evident from the first note that these guys weren't just one-trick ponies. Cutting their teeth into the gospel comedown of Primal Scream, driving krautrock rhythms, Verve swagger and all the while maintaining that heaping helping of shoegaze godliness, Reverends became a lot of psych fans' new favorite group. Well, friends, they're back with a long-awaited follow-up titled 'The Disappearing Dreams Of Yesterday'. Comes on mint green vinyl. Only a handful available, so order fast. - Shiny Beast

Atlanta psych 5-piece Reverends drifted into our musical landscape in 2016 with a sole 7″ pulsating with Psychocandy fuzz called Dark Demon, then quickly followed up the hype with a full-length the same year. Titled Derealization Blues, it was immediately evident from the first note that these guys weren’t just one-trick ponies. Cutting their teeth into the gospel comedown of Primal Scream, driving krautrock rhythms, Britpop swagger and all the while maintaining that heaping helping of shoegaze godliness, Reverends became a lot of psych fans’ new favorite group. Well, friends, they’re back with a long-awaited follow-up titled The Disappearing Dreams of Yesterday.

Never ones to stay comfortable, the band is flirting with new inspirations again. Sometimes I… combines the forlorn cosmic country stylings of Beachwood Sparks and their forefathers The Flying Burrito Brothers while That Was Hell drifts alongside the ecstacy-fueled Storm in Heaven era of The Verve. Trust your instincts here, yall. If you get down on psych sounds old and new, Reverends should fit snugly and comfortable in your collections.

There are 400 copies of the record on randomly-colored vinyl colorways, so check out the 2 available tracks below and grab yourselves some wax after the ‘buy’ link. - Sly Vinyl

Reverends released their second LP on Little Cloud Records on Friday and so we had a chat with Danny from the band to find out more about them.



Q – Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and the band? What do people in the UK need to know about you?

A – We’re from Atlanta, Georgia USA. We’re good friends who make music in our basement. I’m thee Very Rev, Dandy Lee Strickland. I started the band with our drummer Kyle Jones a long time ago. There’s also Andy Watts, Matt Boehnlein and Henry Jack “Hank the Jackhammer” Buxbaum.



Q – So, Reverends, where did that name come from?

A – I’m a Reverend. I got ordained to do Matt Hollywood’s wedding that never happened a decade plus ago. One day someone set up a show for us and we had to come up with a name. I wanted something that wouldn’t pop-up in the psych fest band name generator that’s circling online.



Q – How about inspirations, musically or otherwise?

A – Personally I feel inspired to make music because it helps me to organize my thoughts and better understand my entirely weird relationship with the world. I don’t know how I would Live otherwise. The rest of the band, I can account for this- it’s all a Love affair with the art form. We all really truly Love the Fuck out of music. I’ve played with guys who liked it okay or even Loved it or just wanted to be cool but we Love the fuck out of music itself. We’re inspired by our Love and need to create to make sound. It’s an obligation really!



Q – Tell us about the new record, where was it recorded, who was involved etc?

A – We recorded it in our basement rehearsal studio and nobody was involved but the five of us. It’s quite a feeling of accomplishment. It was a process to make. Things didn’t start out the way we ended-up doing them, and there were different people involved when it began. Luckily good things came out of some misfortunes and we have this beautiful record we couldn’t be more proud of.



Q – How did you come to work with Little Cloud Records?

A – I became friends with those guys online and we would post funny pictures and stuff. I was in Portland and visited Mike’s house and he showed me a list of bands he wanted to put out and we were near the top. It’s been stunballs working with them. Love it!



Q – Any plans to tour on the back of it?

A – Yeah we’re doing a Texas thing next week, then we’ll be doing lots of other things all over for the rest of time.



Q – There is a lot of good music around at the moment, it can’t be denied! Have you any tips for our readers?

A – I can’t really think of any bands to suggest , but if you’re looking there are bands out their with a unique voice, being themselves, taking chances. Fuck wannabes and rip-off artists.



Q – And finally, how would you sum up your sound in one sentence for the uninitiated?

A – Loud, soft, heavy, quiet, high, low, unbeknown, unbelievable, southern unreal estate. - Backseat Mafia

For over 25 years, guitarist, bassist and songwriter Matt Hollywood has staked a reputation as a modern psychedelic and garage-rock mainstay. His first of two runs with the Brian Jonestown Massacre, from the band’s 1990 inception until 1998, is enough to knight him as psych-rock royalty. Nowadays, Hollywood fills a less conspicuous role as Atlanta rockers Reverends’ secret weapon, chasing grassroots success after years of indie rock stardom.

Reverends guitarist, keyboardist and singer Dandy Lee Strickland is no stranger to Hollywood, as the two played together several years ago in Portland, OR band the Rebel Drones, alongside members of the Warlocks and the Dandy Warhols. For the past two years, the former collaborators have lived in Atlanta as roommates, playing a role in each other’s current musical endeavors.

“I'd been in Florida for a while taking care of my mother after she suffered a stroke,” Hollywood says. “When she'd become more stable and I'd found a good assisted living facility for her, I started looking for somewhere I could live that was big enough I could get things done, but close enough to her that I could be there quickly in case of another emergency.”

The move has benefitted Reverends, with Hollywood doing production work on the band’s forthcoming album and occasionally performing with them live. “I told him I had a room open and a good band,” Strickland adds. “We're old friends, and I think Atlanta just made sense to him.”

For Hollywood, the budding partnership provided him with a capable pool of backing musicians when the urge arose to launch a solo act. “When I got some offers to play, it just seemed logical that we all work together,” Hollywood says.

Thus, Matt Hollywood and the Bad Feelings was born. The solo project usually pairs vocalist and guitarist Hollywood with Strickland on rhythm guitar, brother Daniel Strickland on bass and guitarist Taylor Wynn of Reverends, as well as drummer Corey Pallon, formerly of Order of the Owl.

“The songs are mostly things I work on myself, but once other people are involved there [are] always changes,” Hollywood says. “The Bad Feelings is essentially something I tacked on to the end of my name so I wouldn't feel as silly about going solo. The lineup [isn’t always] the same. That said, everyone who takes part is there because of the creativity and talent they can bring to the songs at the time… I bring in whoever seems right at the moment and has time to do it. We've got a pretty deep bench, in sports terms.”

In addition to performing his solo material live since late 2014, Hollywood is plotting a pair of successfully crowdfunded releases relevant to Strickland’s career: the already recorded but unreleased Rebel Drones album and the first Bad Feelings full-length.

“The album's coming along nicely,” Hollywood says. “Most of what we're working on continues from things I've done before, but goes off in some interesting new directions. It's not really a psych-rock record by the modern definition. There are elements of that, but I'd like to move away from what seems to me to have become a very stagnant genre. I'm more interested in sounds that are timeless and can't be pinned down to a particular place or scene.”

For Hollywood, changing musical direction does not diminish the essence of his longstanding approach to songwriting. “I try to write songs in a way that makes you feel like you've already known them all your life,” he says. “I try to use the familiar with enough of a twist to make it novel. We live in a time where someone has already done almost anything you can think of with Western music… To me it's more about being distinctive than original. You can play with what's gone before, but make your hooks huge, and always try to get stuck in people's heads.”

Once the Bad Feelings and Reverends albums hit the streets, Hollywood says his family of bands will take a DIY approach to touring, something that wasn’t an option when playing with indie legends Brian Jonestown Massacre. “It'll be interesting going back to touring on a small scale, rather than as part of something that's essentially become a profit-making machine,” he says. “I could probably get used to crashing on people's couches after the gig again.” - Flagpole