So, a few weeks ago I get this e-mail:”Diacon-Panthers is endearing southern indie rock from Knoxville, TN.” They give me a link to hear their new record. Here it goes . . .

“Days of Wonder” starts out like grungy psychedelia, along the lines of Black Mountain, until, after a long and fascinating it descends into the sonic mess that characterizes the rest of the album: Indecipherable vocals, jangling guitars that seem to fight each other as often as they harmonize, and a drummer who apparently snorted all the speed in Knoxville. This is a group who seem to constantly battle any sense of melody or harmony. Even when they slow down, like on “Actress,” the vocals have a nasal, “Blind Melon” quality that’s jarring. In fact, jarring is probably the best word for this Americana Punk band. I’m on the fourth cut now, and I need to catch my breath. I never like to review a whole album in one sitting, lest my mood at the time color my perception. But in case you’re wondering . . . I fucking loved every minute of it so far.

I come back and start where I left off, with “St. Anthony,” which features a very off, faint and echoey distortion on Natan Diacon-Furtado’s already offbeat vocals. Oh my god. This is so unlike . . . Anything. There’s elements of lots of things here: Southern rock, indie rock, punk . . . There are moments where I hear snatches of something familiar . . . But every time I feel comfortable, the tune takes a right turn and leaves me behind, struggling to catch up.

The Diacon-Panthers need a big break. I hereby call upon all my fellow bloggers to write about this band. Write to me, I’ll send you their e-mail address. These guys have rocked me to my core, in a way few band submissions ever do. Truly.

St. Anthony

When It Comes To The Night

You can get their CD at CD Baby.