Why We Care: There’s something refreshing about getting surf-rock sent our way from Mexico. For once there’s the vague possibility that the kids behind the guitars have actually seen the sea. We love the B-town scene (when it suits us) but there’s an uncomfortable feel about the word beach in a Brummie accent. Its evocative of damp camp-sites, disappointing ice-cream and acres of flabby white flesh. If its heat-haze and woozy melodies you’re in search of Hawaiin Gremlins have your back. Theirs is a world of dusty tarmac and weary blue skies punctuated by the occasional euphoric head-rush. While Birmingham’s beach-scene is an escapist fantasy of neon swimwear and oversized cocktails Mexico City’s take is a whole lot grittier. For every golden-glow there’s a peeling back, for every refreshing dip a mouth full of salt and for every sandy paradise a daily dumping of detritus.
More: Facebook //