Alas, Will Schube still likes the Knicks.
L.A. Witch has me thoroughly convinced that not all who conjure up potions and cast spells have nefarious intentions. Sure, there’s an underbelly to the trio’s music, but that’s just the L.A. of it all. The concoction is straight forward but all the best things are: Twangy guitars that simultaneously recall a sunny day at the beach and a blackout night at your favorite Valley bar; echo-laden drums that fight more than follow; and vocals propped up on pillows of reverb that disorient and confuse, urging us closer, closer, closer.
“Baby in Blue Jeans” follows this equation perfectly. The spell works. Shot on tour and in LA, the video’s 8-MM haze looks exactly like the track sounds, refracted and backwards yet intimating towards a portrait you recall from childhood. This is Lana Del Rey raised on Didion and psychedelics, ‘70s punk mating with the slimiest clubs on the Sunset Strip and spat out atop Laurel Canyon with enough downhill force to cruise all the way across Fountain because everyone knows it’s the best way to see the city. At the very least, it’s the witchiest.
“Blue Jeans Baby” is a standout amongst an album full of scene stealers from L.A. Witch’s self-titled debut. Hot dog stands and palm trees populate the video, and there’s no better way to describe the city outside of blasting Randy Newman’s saccharine ode after a Dodgers win. L.A. Witch breathe the city and toss it back in a beautiful mess. You have no choice but to accept the offering; a trick only L.A.’s finest witches could pull off.
