“It doesn’t take much to say. One of the best groups of their generation, exponents of a way of understanding the world and music: all the best of the 60s, surfing, the West Coast, folk rock… References!”. This paragraph could have been written by any fan of the Allah-Las, but it is the enthusiastic letter of introduction of the Californian group from the Dabadaba room. The irruption of their self-titled album from 2012 (the one with the cover of the shell in the ear) was the fuse that ignited the appearance of a series of bands that, drinking from the fountain of the garage and the psychedelia of the 60s, managed to connect with the 21st century without sounding false. They were old but modern.
Garage-rock and its derivatives became hipster more than a decade ago. And the Allah-Las were largely to blame for a musical renaissance that hit the American underground scene. Without them, groups like Mystic Braves or Levitation Room would not have existed (or we would not have paid so much attention to them), outstanding students who still arouse passions today. They have recently published “The Stuff”the advance track from their next LP with which they break a four-year drought, and which at least in their San Sebastian concert went quite unnoticed located right in the middle of a set of about 70 minutes.
In 2023, and with tickets at 30 euros, they are able to fill a venue with 250 people, having a concert two days later in Biarritz, about 50 kilometers away, at the festival Wheels & Waves. These five boys reap success after success in their performances: in Dabadaba, where they were already in 2016 (breaking latest news here), there were few complaints and plenty of smiles after the concert. Everyone seemed to have been satisfied. The lights came on, the “Abba” of the Paragons sounded in the room, and there were faces of joy. One more time.
But Allah-Las they have a problem, and it’s a big one: they haven’t gotten over that glorious debut, the spitting image of the sun shining on the Californian sea that could be glimpsed in the vintage images on the screen that accompanied their music. For a moment it seemed that the songs, especially in their instrumental passages (the inaugural “No Werewolf”, “Sacred Sands”), were becoming the soundtrack of the recently inaugurated summer that was projected on the wall. It was hot and the room, to the brim, was trying to cool off in a series of raids on the bar that couldn’t cope with the crowd.
Allah-Las It is no longer just a hymn to the dolce far niente of the West Coast: surf, good weather, the beach as a symbol. His concerts are not necessarily better now, but other nuances are appreciated, in some cases more rugged and harsh. They collect the folk rock legacy of the Laurel Canyon groups; they let the spirit of The Velvet Underground from “Loaded” peek through, which caused a pogo before the encores; and some guitars and atmospheres are reminiscent of 80’s REM, like in “Polar Onion”. Its immaculate sixties revival now travels for another decades without being too noticeable either. The members of Allah-Las, a tad more physically worn out, continue to embody the Californian dream in their own way. Like taking a nap against the noise and the evils that threaten the world. A joyous little sleep.
The best song of the lot continues to be, most likely, “Sandy”, one of the most outstanding cuts of “Allah-Las”. Nothing beat that magical intro (“Time After Time Girl / Like Daedalu´s Child”) with which one visualizes oneself on a surfboard riding the waves to the shore. The crowd, quite a mix of colors, fell in love when the original hymns were played (“Tell Me (What’s on your Mind)” was the second, “Catamaran” was saved for the closing) and also responded positively to the later crop, less exciting but with which Allah-Las they hold their own and allows them to solve concerts without messing up their hair.