When I get my time machine working, maybe the eighteenth or nineteenth thing I’m gonna do is port back to the studio where the Federal Duck were making their (I assume—it’s on Radioactive, so notes there’s not) sole album, grab hold of the pseudonymous producer’s lapels and hiss, “Listen, bub, you got an ace mournful New England garage pop songwriter in this George Stavis kid—so drop the rest of the repertoire and focus on the band genius and in 35 years fanzine writers will cream all over this disc instead of giving middling reviews that rely on that tired old time travel gimmick.” The Stavis tunes really are strong enough to recommend the whole album, which when not working this haunting, wintery academic sound ala the Rising Storm plays around with neo-Vaudeville, heavy acid rock, old time banjos and a smattering of head humor, all played with sophistication and imaginatively arranged. Surprised I’ve never heard of these ducks before.
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