the Pink Snowflakes

Indie kids have been psych rocking like its 1969 for the better part of a decade now, so the breathless hype surrounding head-trippy Portland youngsters the Pink Snowflakes is a bit facile. But unlike many of their indulgent brethren, the Pink Snowflakes conjure the visceral rock punch and the melodicism of the original psychedelic movement in a way that bellies their age. As with neopsychedelia, the prevailing attitude is far more inspired by bad acid trips than the summer of love, but the band's work stands alone for its originality and spirit, instead of seeming like some precocious hipster pastiche.



With red curtains closed, the stage filled up with smoke and bubbles. It was an awe-inspiring sight when the curtains were pulled to release a rainbow of colors, created by fountains of bubbles lit with strobe lights that made them sparkle like snowflakes. The band adorned the stage with huge speakers, painted televisions, larger than life flowers and other paraphernalia. The music fit perfectly with its shiny, chaotic guitar leads, crunching chords, heavy rhythm, and even violin that was played to sound like a guitar feeding back.
-Jake Rose. Willamette Week 2007



What does "psychedelic rock" mean to you?
To the Pink Snowflakes, it means deafening guitar feedback over head-nod tempo folk songs with "trippy" echo guitar effects and use of EBow note sustainer. It means songs come out of speakers like a wash, at firehose force and with narcotic pacing.
Their set was fun, but so loud that you had to either jump right in or not mess around with it at all.
The Snowflakes decorated their sound with electric violin, the Stockhouse stage with a black-light poster of a unicorn, and the air surrounding their 200+ audience with bubbles streaming from two machines. They played GMF last year, and their set was slightly better today- the songs sounded tighter. Most of their appeal is in the look and feel: the bubbles are whimsical, the band looks like a hobo version of arena-psych-pop band The Flaming Lips, and- if you're into "heavy" things- the noise from the guitar and drums hurts so good.
GMF will change you: the BBQ man's smoke wafts over the fence and gets into your clothes, the sun bakes your skin, and the Pink Snowflakes make you go deaf.



Andrew Matson
Seattle Times