True Blue

It doesn’t really matter what genre of music you try to lump Dirty Beaches in to. You can call them lo-fi, or garage or tape deck electronica or whatever, at the core of each and every track I at least have heard, there’s a truly tropical feel. Not the sort of ukulele and coconut steel drums you expect from the notion of tropical, more so the low-energy vibe of a day spent between beach and storm. The feeling of water brushing against your feet, and the distant hum of smoke-puttering cars and island culture.
Even on the newest tracks from Dirty Beaches (out on Zoo Music, well now), ones which hope to pay homage to the sort of slow-dancing music children of the 50s boogie-woogied to, there it is, that lo-fi hum of tropicalia. You picture the Dance Under The Sea, rife with poodle skirts and pomaded hair, but transported to a cane field in the Caribbean. Shiny black shoes click against island rocks, perhaps a low-hanging palm brushes against your dates dress. Somebody spikes the coconut water.