HIPPIE CREAM: The Press

Hippie Cream has been self-producing records since 2001 and has built up a loyal fan base online and in the Inland Empire and greater Southern California region. Audiences are drawn to the band for its quirky humor and genre-hopping albums featuring such songs as punk-influenced “Cuddles the Vampire” and country-fusion “Pray That When I Die.”

For its 11th album, Hippie Cream has moved away from its experimental past to produce what drummer Sean Daniel describes as “a cohesive, mellow Americana record.”

"Groundbreaking. Sgt. Pepper's meets Pet Sounds meets Marty and Dr. Dream-a-thon & robotic sandwich puss-biters. It should be in every house, it should be in every bathroom. It should be on every T-shirt. I want to be a part of the Dream-a-thon."

So, yes. Hippie Cream is the topic of the day, it would seem. I got a copy of their latest outing, In Your Ear, in the mail a few days ago… and yeah. It’s a highly original, yet defiantly lo-fi and uncompromising half hour of what the group might describe as “noise pudding”. The bandmembers don’t really seem to be all that concerned with trying to box themselves into any scene or movement… no, much like Danielson, these cats seem to want to just let the music flow through themselves in the most organic way possible, and as long as the joy they felt while making the records is apparent, then the rest is gravy.

And I really hope I’m right about that last statement, because truth be told, In Your Ear is a fun, yet sloppy mess of a record with nary a reference point in my own feild of musical expertise. I guess you could call it “outsider” music, what with the off-kilter instruments flowing in and out of the get-in-get-out song arrangements and the often silly voices the group utilizes to emote the lyrics, so… yeah, that’s probably a somewhat accurate tag. But really, trying to pigeonhole the group any further will simply make your fucking head explode.

Amid clouds floating parallelepipeds and dangerous. About banks irregular and below a blue cloud. A little crab crawled in the installation. Fruit Space. Cigars flying hypnotic. An epic parallel adventure. Universe, visions alive! On the left there is a man. Watch out for that hole! Be careful this time. To the right is all flat...This time. My heartburn is torn apart. So inconsistent is my annoying stomach in the days of crisis. Bird swimmers. Ants crawl. Chess floating. horses, pawns, rooks, bishops...Hollow structure and muscles. Blatantly disgusting. Too old for love. oh oh, hippie psychedelia. Cream!

They aren't very good

I have played guitar all my life and these guys need lessons.

Hippie Cream’s name explains their strange mix of sounds. Equal parts late-60s psych folk whimsy, current folk and catchy pop, B-Movies on Parade will send the listener back and forth through a maze of amazing oddities and simple melodies. The album is like playing chess, never knowing what move is ahead for the opponent or where your next move might take you as well. In other words, Hippie Cream will keep you on your toes whether it be in suspense, wonderment while you try and look ahead to the next track like looking over a fence of a strange neighbor’s yard, or just to dance. There is almost no point in saying eclectic but I just said it so there you go. The home recordings have an innocence and honesty to them that almost seem improvised, the words strange, the music moving.

This band treads the same weathered sonic path as Daniel Johnston and the Moldy Peaches but with fresh, young feet. These sonic jackalopes have hidden their catchy tunes under layers of high desert weirdness, the results causing listeners to scratch their heads, tap their toes, and stroke their beards. This is sonic Ritalin for your inner child.