Brilliant. Absolutely deranged brilliance. You have to admire 1960s bands for naming themselves like they found three random words in a junk drawer and dared fate to make them famous. Gasoline Powered Clock is already fantastic, but if they formed today, some streaming consultant would rename them Solar-Powered Smartwatch, give them a wellness newsletter, and make the drummer explain their brand pillars on a podcast.
Their song “Forest Fire On Main St. (Run, Run, Run)” is catchy as hell—one of those songs that kicks down your front door, steals your shoes, and somehow convinces you to thank it as you constantly push the repeat button. I’ve seen it called “garage”, I’ve seen it called “soul”, and honestly, it sounds like both genres got into a fistfight while locked in a basement with a fuzz pedal and decided to work things out. The guitar hooks me right away, and the singer has exactly the right voice: urgent, Gary Lewis-ish, and just unpolished enough to make it feel dangerously alive.
Apparently, this was their only 45, which feels perfect in the most 1960s way possible. Maybe they had one song, one afternoon, and one functioning extension cord, so they shrugged, flipped the tape over, and made the B-side an instrumental because civilization had already asked enough of them. Fair enough. It stands on its own merit, smells faintly of gasoline, and still manages to arrive with both hands full of fire.
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