A dark, damp, barn rotting apart in the backwoods of the South is probably one of the last places on Earth that I would want to find myself. Listening to Dead Confederate's new album, Wrecking Ball, I find myself transported there by the psychedelic/rock band and somehow compelled to stay. Maybe it's the way that Hardy Morris sometimes sounds like Cobain's little, redneck cousin, or maybe it's the morose undertones that permeate throughout his lyrics that take the listener away to a strange dark place. Morris' quick and concise lyrics are echoed perfectly by heavy drumming that doesn't let off the pedal. There are times that it seems like his voice will be lost between the drums and the guitar, but it comes back every time, more powerful than before.

While Wrecking Ball is not the pop-iest of albums, there's certainly a sing-along quality to most of the melodies and enough reverb to place the band with the trendiest of artists from M.I.A. to M.M.J. The song "All the Angels" would find a perfect home on Jesus and Mary Chain's Psychocandy, but there's something about this album that eludes quick comparisons to other artists. Maybe that's the trick to supposed "psychedelic rock," evading being pegged to a particular genre. Regardless, Wrecking Ball is sure to gladly send more and more listeners to that barn in the backwoods.