The Aliens
Astronomy for Dogs
Label: Astralwerks
Release Date: June 19, 2007

There exists a certain type of artist among us who cannot be contained or normalized. The predication is a controlled chaos that results in bouts of genius followed by the inability to function in society — often followed by suicide or overdose (the 27 club [Hendrix, Cobain, Morrison]), interventional therapy (Brian Wilson) or even some quality time spent at a mental institutions (Syd Barrett).

The Beta Band co-founder Gordon Anderson falls into this class of artist, and we’re quick to admit we’ve been a big fan of his waaaaay before High Fidelity launched TBB into the hipster collective consciousness, he left the group, went crazy and continued with his own Lone Pigeon/Fence Collective projects.

But we definitely followed the Beta Band just as closely, first seeing them live opening for Radiohead in August of 2001 with 30,0000 of our closest friends at Chicago’s Grant Park and then seeing them rock a sold out crowd at Minneapolis’ now-defunct Quest Club a year later.

But it’s 2007, the Beta Band released their best-of album and promptly broke-up (tell us you didn’t call that one), and Gordon Anderson reunited with John Maclean and Robin Jones for a little project called the Aliens last year. They now have a new album out, and we’re psyched!

One part Beatles, two parts Beach Boys and a healthy dose of “Beta Band sound” makes up the 15 tracks on Astronomy For Dogs, with songs of joy averaging 6+ minutes.

For example, at 2:10 on “I am the Unknown,” the song probably should have ended, but it still had more than 3 minutes left and was just getting started…radio-friendliness be damned. And thank God, because at 2:36 the layers coalesce into a rock and roll joyfest rendering us paralyzed to the point of drool and lurch. You should’ve seen it.

Writing psychedelic pop like they just don’t make anymore, these Aliens are operating in a sub-stratosphere we simply can’t comprehend without the prepare detachment from society (and pending psychiatric evaluation). More than once lyrics devolve into a repetitive chorus of “We are the Aliens” or “I am a robot man,” reinforcing this album is an experience meant to be consumed all at once (screw you, “Dry the Rain” obsessives).

Anderson may be two steps left of normal, but we like him that way and the music speaks for itself. This disc will play well in a club, in your car or through a tinny overhead speaker in your asylum of choice.

Look for the Aliens to tour through a bunch of festivals this summer and then hop the pond our way later in the fall or winter.