Tan Bajo by Davila 666

Hailing from San Juan, Puerto Rico, Davila 666 plays fierce Spanish-language garage-pop with gang vocals, tambourines, pop hooks, guitar licks and even a touch of psych here and there. Elements of early Stones, Jesus and the Mary Chain, Dead Boys and ’60s girl groups are all evident in Davila’s sound. Since their 2008 self-titled debut album, they’ve released a slew of singles and EPs on labels like HoZac, Rob’s House and Douchemaster. The album even received a coveted cassette release on Burger, a garage rock signal that “they’ve arrived” if ever there was one. Davila 666 toured the US on a mammoth three-month trek that would’ve made Black Flag weary, as well as completed a massive slog across Europe. As soon as they began recording tracks for their much anticipated follow-up, Tan Bajo, which means “so low,” the band realized the sounds they were making were darker and more psychedelic than their previous output. Though it retains the pop and rock ’n’ roll one would expect, Tan Bajo is Davila 666’s most cohesive release to date. With a team that includes In The Red, Creature Booking, Force Field PR and Vice management backing them, these Puerto Ricans are poised to turn the indie rock world on its ear. “... one of the best bands at SXSW. Period.” —The Fader “This six-man combo generates a monolithic wall of sound, and if this isn’t as frantic as some of their contemporaries in the United States, Davila 666’s better-than-average chops, potent swagger, and thorough knowledge of the cooler chapter of rock ’n’ roll history more than compensate.” —Allmusic.com “Since picking up Davila’s debut disc, I’ve refused to put it back down. On their US debut, these triple-sixers filter three decades of scuffed-up leather jackets through the Spanish-language translator. Disparate patches of Radio Birdman, The Dead Boys and rudimentary jangle pop are all threaded onto the album, the charms of which are multiplied by the fact that Davila 666 sounds like it was recorded live at a basement birthday party.” —SF Weekly