Castlemania

Holing up by himself, worrying about money, obsessing with death and letting the walls close in is probably not good for Dwyer as a human being, but it's certainly good for Castlemania.

Psychedelic 12th LP from prolific garage rockers. [Aug. 2011, p. 126]

This time they've come armed with an acoustic guitar to counterpoint their love of reverb--something that works well with their generally playful attitude. [Aug 2011, p.100]

The faint air of pie-eyed 60s silliness (song titles include Spider Cider and Idea for Rubber Dog) and Dwyer's cartoonish vocalisms could put some off, but there's more than enough sunny, funny, manic charm to make it all work.

Despite the moments where you feel like you're having a bad trip, there's a deranged brilliance on Castlemania that's difficult to ignore.

If you can be persuaded to root around for long enough you might occasionally bump into the odd moment that made Thee Oh Sees' brilliant Help album of 2009, or 2010's lopsided Warm Slime, so enjoyable – slapdash songwriting, slovenly hooks and prurient flights of fancy.

It's worth giving Castlemania a few more chances, because beneath what feels like constant disharmony, is something quite refreshing.

All in all, Castlemania is a fairly loose and scattered record.

Fortunately, his muse digs punk and trash--these 16 basement screams are the B-sides of rock history.

While it's technically another hack-and-slash assault on the senses that scorches the garage rock's hallowed ground, the album manages to find a fresh detour for the group to stagger down.

Castlemania does sound like the product of several happily productive days in this band's life; this album sounds less sinister and more playful than the bulk of their previous output, and if a lot of this is still going to seem chaotic and off-putting to anyone not flying a similar freak flag, it's an easier way in to Thee Oh Sees' curious musical world than any of their albums to date.

It's the band's most fractured album to date, folding art-garage conventions into themselves instead of working them into song structures.

For every near-perfect slab of garage-pop, such as 2009's Help, there's a tougher-to-sit-through, psych-folk influenced effort like 2010's Warm Slime. Castlemania splits the difference, but mostly for the good.

Castlemania indicates that like the most accomplished psychedelia, Thee Oh Sees are thoroughly capable of adding dimensionality to "odd"--and oddness to "pop."