In many ways, music has reverted to where it was at the beginning of the recording age a hundred years ago or so. Artists make money playing live (they get paid in kind, at least, if not cash) and make recordings as documents without much hope of remuneration. This was also true in the 1980s, the one time in history when the music industry was actually a huge moneymaker. Band after band would record singles or albums, hoping to make it. Almost none did, of course.

Bark Loud (self-released)

But many of those failures were prophetic. In any case, the sound of band playing whatever the hell it wants is pretty inspiring. Bark is led by Susan and Tim Lee. They live in Mississippi, which happens to be the spiritual home of rock and roll (not because of Elvis, but rather the Delta blues). And they play a stripped-down, bouncy form of garage rock that is likely immediately recognizable to people of a certain age.

The whole garage-meets-punk ethos remains the underground musical hallmark of the 80s. The legends of that era tended to find their own niches (X and country, Redd Kross and power pop, etc.). Bark doesn't do that, but its vaguely disjointed songs do give the band an identity. Often enough, it feels like the song won't make it to the end. When it does, there's a palpable sense of relief.

There are so many references to underground sounds of the past that I'm not going to try to catalog them. The Lees are themselves of a certain age, and they know exactly what they're doing. This ramble is a raucous joy. Sometimes sounding dated is the perfect tonic.

Jon Worley