Da Palm II
It might appear to be a mirage in the desert; however, Da Palm II is substantially more rewarding and upbeat. These tracks will surely quench your thirst. It’s progressively instrumental with a stress on swanky rock. While the packaging isn’t anything all that flashy, the music is somewhat ostentatious. I found it to be along the lines of early Spock’s Beard or the modern 4Front. In all actuality, it’s closer to the latter as the voices have been completely stripped bare from the recital. Nevertheless, this generous collection of songs is fairly edgy and equitably fretful. For something that doesn’t utter a word, it’s moderately outspoken.
These are the kind of screwball antics that one would stumble upon in slapstick. When the situation starts to boil and begins to reach its climax that’s where you’ll find it. It could chronicle the instance when the nerds outdo the jocks. It may also be the passionate and high voltage scenes spawned in a romantic comedy. Maybe this is fitting for that freaky geeky movie about a jealous computer that’s gone berserk. If you’re unfamiliar with this flick, the ID bracelet reads Edgar. He’s the artificially-intelligent PC who short-circuits and steals the show and tries to win over the girl in Electric Dreams. As it goes, Madeline, Miles, and the Watt’s produce enough energy in these incarnations to light up the neighborhood. You too will experience electromagnetic forces flying from your speakers. They’ll bounce off the walls and latch onto your ears. When this happens, you’ll experience symptoms caused by the love bug. Then it’s time to make plans for a serious long-term commitment. Going forward, I suspect you’ll find yourself spending plenty of quality time with the amazing music emitted from this elusive artist.
Let’s check out the accommodations and perks established within this rousing resort dubbed Da Palms II:
“Pushin’ It” starts the festivities and has Rerun from What’s Happening be-bopping with all his oddball moves. Before the all-boy bands learned to pop and lock, this pudgy dupe had these techniques down flat. There is also an element of break-dance in its unwieldy rhythm.
“Out On That” is a combination of Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton. I also hear that tune from Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers, that one about the scary family of bloodthirsty strays. Maybe there is an infusion of The Peanuts Gang in there as well.
I’d say “Satranian Moons” is Todd Rundgren’s Utopia meets The Dixie Dregs. With these stellar traits assimilated into its genetic fiber, it’s easily one of my favorites on the album.
Even after a terrifically torrential trio, the album is relentless. The elegant songwriting and pitch-perfect performances keep on coming:
“Puesta Del Sol” penetrates the epidermis with numerous pricks of the needle. The cocktail contained in this shot is a potent vaccination that’s saturated with a effective Latin vibe. It’s subdued, but it’s suspiciously rabid. It breathes heavily as it fills its lungs. If crossed, this wolf will make the earlier three little piggies homeless.
“Drop Zone” wastes no time jumping from the safety of the plane and into the great wide open. To be specific, the guitars are tentative while the bass is psyched.
“Don’t Bother Me” is very inviting. The Police, The Munsters, and Eddie Van Halen are intertwined.
“The Journey” is far from wayward and right on the money,
but it’s only installed the halfway marker. Forging ahead, there is so much
more that’s left to enjoy on the itinerary. In these passages, we cross many
fantastic lands. To create such a fantasy, you’d need to coalesce
“
“Lady of Mine” is a drive in the car used by assassin, stuntman, and secret agent man, Spyhunter. You’ll hear the theme from this game in between all the potholes and cracks in the pavement. In addition to this rapturous rattling, muffled gunfire shoots from the drums. It’s also worth mentioning that this song features some scantily scat (it’s the sole fact that debunks the claim that there are no vocals present here). The verses parrot the lines from Tequila, Low-rider, or take-your-pick from any of Santana. The keyboards clink in their attempts to roll down the window. Concurrently, the guitarist’s hand fits through the tiny aperture that’s made and with that, he surfs the wind.
In “Last Wave” the fish are literally jumping out of the
water and into the vessel. Alas, there is no need for a rod or a worm. Even the
wake caused by the surrounding speedboats has no affect on the yield. Countless
Bass, Perch, and Swordfish spring forth from the salty depths of this symphonic
sea. To give it some charm, it croaks with the guttural sounds of a Guiro. If
you’re unfamiliar with this instrument, it’s a hollowed-out gourd that also
goes by the name Calabazo, Guayo,
Ralladera, and Rascador. In
the past, these freshwater inhabitants were found in music class accompanied by
a fish-stick called a Pua. Nowadays, these are
elaborate frogs or toads with a spine that’s responsible for each rewarding ribbit.
“All That I Have” is a smooth operator and it’s really giving. In this easygoing piece, the licks are vigorous, but they certainly take their time. To be precise, you could say they’re sloth-like slow. Likewise, the guitars have their reverb settings set to the max. In turn, these scalable effects cause a spellbinding chill.
“Bayou Bounce” has the flair of Jamiroquai
with the sophistication of high society jazz. There is standing room only in
this steamy pub. It’s possesses a foggy mist akin to a smoke-filled sauna. As
the patrons empty their glasses, the bartenders are busy topping off their
fluids. With soothing vapors in the air and attentive service, it takes no
effort to unwind and relax.
“P-Time” is neither about golf nor a release of tension. Instead, it’s a short sting followed by a stakeout and an arrest. The authorities move so quickly there is no chance whatsoever to sabotage this undercover operation.
At a wee bit over five minutes, “Joe’s Tune” is probably the fullest and the most fine-tuned. In this garage, everyone is industriously at it underneath the chassis. It gets an oil change, lube, and filter plus a thorough inspection. They use a synthetic formula that is provided by programmed drums and several quarts from the keyboards. The system hums with brass that seems to be fabricated in an after-market shop. It’s obvious they are imitation parts, but still they succeed in getting the job done.
We conclude with “Genesis II” and “Ballad of Billy G”. With such good vibrations, I expected to learn of Buckaroo Banza and the Hong Kong Cavaliers battling evil invaders across the 8th dimension. It could also be Robocop on his daily rounds fending off pesky gangs and the rest of the neighborhood scum. Even If this song doesn’t feature the likes of Peter Weller, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to copy this track over and supersede the score to just about any sci-fi cult classic. After sixteen intelligently crafted selections, only then does our brave, but inimitable hero ride off into the sunset.
By the way, the man behind the curtain is Dennis Palm. He is responsible for all the compositions, the entire performance, and from top to bottom, the production. Simply put, he’s does it all and it’s done at a studio named Daplace. With this lingo, you’d think it were a sermon, threat, or discourse from wrestling’s Hall-Of-Famer Da Crusher. To the contrary, these songs are delicate and light on their feet. They’re also genuine, sentimental, and grateful. For the record, the entire collection is dedicated to the memory of Dennis Palm’s dad.
In my humble opinion, this would make his father proud. It’s delivered with ardor, enthusiasm, and devotion. It’s so impassioned, it’ll make you want to sit, philosophize, and ponder to yourself. The next time I want to take a load off and sprawl out, I plan to make a reservation with this album. As I said, if you judge this book by its water-colored cover, you might not give it a second glance. I wholeheartedly believe that would be a colossal mistake. The contents are very cool and groovy, in other words they are “GREAT!”
8.75/10