In many respects, the style-tombs this LA band plunders exist in the underground's collective subconscious. Rhythm guitar and organ combine like nothing but mid-period Velvets; gentler lead flourishes are pure extensions of the Angelino Byrds/Love/Rain Parade tradition; the pulse's slow-moving inevitability and the shimmering, staggering wall of heavy drug imagery are classic Spaceman 3. These building blocks have been utilised by entire generations of sullen youths. But the way the Warlocks assemble them makes it all sound new, loud and ripe. The band's considerable size (they're an octet)... (+) expand

In many respects, the style-tombs this LA band plunders exist in the underground's collective subconscious. Rhythm guitar and organ combine like nothing but mid-period Velvets; gentler lead flourishes are pure extensions of the Angelino Byrds/Love/Rain Parade tradition; the pulse's slow-moving inevitability and the shimmering, staggering wall of heavy drug imagery are classic Spaceman 3. These building blocks have been utilised by entire generations of sullen youths. But the way the Warlocks assemble them makes it all sound new, loud and ripe. The band's considerable size (they're an octet) gives them a natural sonic width that skinnier combos lack. And their twin drums can conjure up either the 68 Dead or the 78 Cramps (two truly Platonic ideals). But for all this name-checking, the Warlocks' raunch is unique, thuggy and essential. By Byron Coley, MOJO (-) collapse