Paradise

In the summer of 2004, amidst the post-millennium American identity crisis and a Detroit industrial burn, three well-worn and somewhat calloused musicians congregate in a garage and start writing whatever the hell they feel like. These are dudes in their mid twenties who lived through the prostitution of punk rock and held their Dischord LPs close, remembering what it was like to see Fugazi blow every other band in the world off the stage. Then maybe they spent some time guzzling whiskey and listening to Crazy Horse. Now they're here, with long hair and dirty boots, the drummer teases his coif and joined the Faster Pussycat fan club just to fuck with all the Warped Tour sterility. They name their band Paradise, a moniker which somehow embodies all of their polarities: ugly and pretty, cynical and sincere, jaded but still going about things full-on, the cruel joke of a good fantasy. It says, "Fuck you, would you like to come inside?"

Singer/Guitarist Aron Lozo spent a good deal of time playing basements and screaming himself dry in 90s, then reached the legal drinking age and joined Inside Five Minutes, a Detroit staple a few years back. He was one of the last "lead singers" in the city and decided to pick up a guitar and write better songs than all his old bands combined. Dan Gillies, a hairy-chested, sweaty rock god played bass in IFM and does double duty with Detroit's stoner rock kings Chapstik. And then Brian Repa, hair all sleazy and greasy, admired by fellow drummers all over town who try to learn the beats he wrote when he was a 17 year prodigy playing with the infamous Thoughts of Ionesco. Paradise is the first thing he's done in years, after fleeing to Japan going on a 3 year bender of self-enlightenment and destruction.

When you put it together, it's like all the good things you remember about rock music; that is, if you liked good music in the first place. Guitars that are noisy and melodic and sound just a little wrong now and then. The singer moans and howls and comes just close enough to falling apart. And, get this, real bass lines. Fat motherfuckers too, a little soul and a little sleaze; no wonder the guy looks like he's fucking while he plays. And we won't even speak of the drums. You might reference Alan Cage or Matt Cameron, but we know he's really getting that shit straight off the first Dangerous Toys LP and that by the time it's processed through his psychotic genius it comes out all beautiful and shit.

Reference points? Must we? Fine. Remember Dischord Records' Bluetip or Kerosene 454? No? Your fault. Paradise is like that but more Detroit, a little more Grandfunk, a little more Laughing Hyenas in the pot. Imagine the early Sub Pop sound if it was sped up 20 beats and had better hooks. Imagine early Jawbox if they lived in the Northwest and smoked good hash. Don't tell the mall punk kids that they're full of shit, just drag them down to see Paradise tear up some Detroit dive. They might not like it now, but maybe they'll get it in two years and tell all their friends they were there.

The new Paradise EP "CIty Heat" went to tape at Ghetto Recorders and was engineered by Jim Diamond (White Stripes, Easy Action). Released on Down Peninsula Audio in Spring '06, the road is wide open friends, let's get back on it before the cows come home to die.