You're thinking of all the jobs you could retire from

You keep telling me everything's gotta be real

Yes,  the extremely devoted readers (more than a thousand now, I am told) of our blog already have grasped what this is about. Because, indeed, your memory does not fail you, those were lyrics from the song Atomic Heels by the Secret Machines, the video to which Doc was kind enough to post a while ago. 

But that was just the single. 

As I've been busy reliving the highs and the lows of the past year (only musically, of course, optherwise everything is  as usual. Devastatingly so) it occured to me that the secret machines are a band that deserve special mention. I first stumbled upon them when I got a promo of their first album in a cardboard sleeve sent to my house by warner back in the day when buying their music actually meant something to the music industry and they tried to send you stuff to review that might be interesting later for clients with similar tastes. I even had to fill out forms to get those promos. Scary stuff, I tell ya. Anyways, "Now here is nowhere" was born, and I actually liked it a lot, but something was still missing from their music, some sort of... rock edge.

It was artsy, we like artsy, but it wasn't dirty enough to quite fit into that 70's psychedelia corner it tried to belong to. Then the Secret Machines went on to release a pile of very mediocre stuff and I had all but forgotten about them.

This year they took their bags and left warner (or were left...I am not entirely sure) and released a new album, without a major label backing them. It sounds cliché, but that did it.

Apparently it was all that was needed to do the trick.

Let me get a bit clearer on this. They did not do houses of the holy here, but this album actually blends rock, psych and some glam and space seamlessly and produces very enjoyable music.

Especially the second half of the album (starting with "The walls are starting to crack") is killing it sonically and will appeal to most avid readers of this blog. So be patient through the first few catchy tracks, the heavy druggy stuff is coming for you and it presents some glaring moments of pink floyd helicopter-oganza in all their glory. 

So, here is the self titled recent album by The Secret Machines, cherish it if only for the second half and the brilliant mellowing "I never thought to ask" right between the heavy freakout tracks. It has style, and we all like style. 

Also the new age ballad "Now you're gone" will go brilliantly with some heartache and an illuminated city at night to drive around in. Try it.