When was the last time you had a genuinely freaky dream? Not freaky in the hiding from a deranged killer in your old high school kind of way. More like a surreal tapestry of half-baked storylines that can only bleed into each other because of dream logic. The type of dream rich with visions of neon-bathed opium dens and foggy crags that you wander through aimlessly, contemplating whether you're exploring your subconscious or experiencing the consequences of the half a chicken sandwich you ate cold straight out of the fridge right before bed. If you had to put a soundtrack to that dream, it would be entirely composed by Delicate Steve.
Like many others, I first heard about Delicate Steve from the now-famous Scooby Snacks video. I was hooked the moment I heard “I Can Fly Away” in the background of Shaggy and Fred’s late-night activities. Since then, I have been patiently waiting for a new album so I can do a review; now, at long last, Steve answered my prayers with Luke's Garage.
This album is a strange one because, despite being only a few minutes shorter than his usual work, Luke's Garage runs twenty-seven minutes, while most other Delicate Steve albums go just over thirty; the actual songs are snippets compared to his typical stuff. Seven songs, around half the fifteen-song track list, are under two minutes long. We still get plenty of tunes with regular run times, although Steve's three-minute standard is still short compared to contemporary music, which helps pad out those twenty-seven minutes. These snippets make the album feel more like a demo than a studio release. It gives the impression that these are unfinished ideas still needing to be heavily mulled over before they're ready for mass public consumption. It does help that many of the shorter songs flow into one another, making them feel like one regular-length track, but it's not exactly conducive to producing singles.
So, I cried about the length of the songs, but who really cares how long they are? What matters is if they sound good, and let me tell you, Steve delivers.
Luke's Garage tests out a rockabilly sound that pairs surprisingly well with Steve's weeping guitars and echoing beats. Of course, Delicate Steve is one to explore genres, and this album is no exception. “Light of the World” delves into synth funk, and “Nearly Everything” gives us an aggressive riff more akin to indie rock than what we're used to with Delicate Steve. Still, the album is overwhelmingly a mix of that neo-50s rock sound and surreal, almost psychedelic, instrumentals. This album is a tribute to dirt roads everywhere, sparsely populated by red-eyed burnouts flying along at speeds well exceeding the posted limit, watching the beautiful purple sky fade to black. It is mournful and yet inspiring. A hard pill to swallow, but one that provides instant relief. Hauntingly sweet like the creeping smell of death.
I will go so far as to say that I think this is Delicate Steve’s best album yet. It gives fans everything we’ve come to know and love about Steve while also pumping in a fresh wave of experimental strangeness that keeps the songs fresh and the listener on their toes. Luke’s Garage is by no means a perfect album, but if you’re a person who digs instrumental music, you’re going to have a hard time finding something bad to say about it.
It may be a little short, but at twenty-seven minutes, that’s all the more reason to listen to the album straight through, which, given the way so many songs flow into each other, I imagine is how you’re supposed to listen to it. This is Delicate Steve’s eighth studio album, so if you aren’t hip to what he’s laying down, now is the time to get caught up. When you’re through with that, you can catch him running all over the States and Canada on tour. Or if that’s not your thing, you can go watch Scooby Snacks again. Either way, enjoy the cool rhythms with something green, gold, and glorious, sire.
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