The G: Postcards from LA

a1655299710_10I have lived on the east coast of the United States all my life. The furthest west I have ever been is Las Vegas. I’ve always wanted to go further, all the way to Los Angeles, but until that day comes all I have are photographs. However, much like Def Leppard once sang in their song of the same name, it’s hard for me to settle with just a photo, even if it’s said they are worth a thousand words.

Postcards from LA” by The G, released through TimeSlave Recordings, goes beyond words with something better than a photo: music which touches on your emotions and stimulates your mind. Listening to these tracks, and closing your eyes, whisks you away on a visionary vacation up and down the Pacific Coast Highway; it’s postcards in the form of songs.

The opening track, “Malibu Nights,” sees you cruising the neon-soaked streets of the titular town hopping from club to club, getting your kicks and fix. A night of partying eventually leads you to “Zuma Beach,” watching the sunrise as you get sand in your pastel suit and trying to catch a few winks under sunglasses, before climbing back into your Porsche “928.”

Driving up the coast, you stop for a bite to eat at a roadside breakfast joint, getting some hair of the dog that bit you. “On the Rocks,” of course, because it’s sweltering outside even this close to the ocean so early in the morning. Eventually you reach “Santa Barbara,” an hour’s drive turned into two because you can’t help but admire the view. Another town, another night of partying, during this perfect “Tropical Summer”┬áin the mid-80s.

Now, this was but my listening experience, and your mental mileage may vary. Either way, no matter what your mind conjures up as you listen, let go and let The G take you there with their impressive work of euphonious escapism. There’s a lot of music out there that tries to emulate the sounds of yesteryear, but there’s only so many that actually make you feel like you’re there, and The G nails it.

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