The Beastie Boys are one busy crew. If fighting for a free Tibet, periodically reinvigorating hip-hop and dressing a good percentage of the B-boy hipsters wandering around Harajuku weren't enough, they continue to deliver the goods on their Grand Royal label. Luscious Jackson, Buffalo Daughter and Money Mark might not rack up the sales, but their coolness quotient is undeniable. Sukpatch, the latest addition to the Grand Royal stable, scores just as high.
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The Minneapolis group's new album, "Naturalizms," is the product of a generation of latchkey kids brought up on Brady Bunch reruns. It's the soundtrack to a basement party when the folks are away, with its laid-back grooves, both sunny and spaced. Like Beck, it's full of nods toward the '70s, but with a little more soul and a little less ego.
The '70s vibe isn't just derived from pop either. Sukpatch also has the slightest touch of Grandmaster Flash-era hip-hop, if only in a marked preference for cheesy sounding electronics. The lyrics, too, are a flashback to the days of wide collars and bad haircuts. Think of the faux philosophical sincerity of a teenager whose read way too much of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance."
The French do this sort of thing exceedingly well. And while Sukpatch is less giddy and slightly more twisted than Parisians Tahiti 80, "Naturalizms" could segue easily into Air's soundtrack for the "Virgin Suicides." A sentimental longing for the days of AM radio and surreptitious bong hits are, it seems, pop music universals.