By:  Kyle Donley
Rating:  9/11 

Originating from the seemingly endless assembly line of underground bands hailing from Texas, Houston’s own Young Mammals recreate ‘60s garage pop with an ear for stadium-sized (okay, maybe amphitheater-sized) sing-a-longs.  Their official debut, Carrots (2010-self released), offers 11 organically grainy tunes instilled with Volkswagen-commercial catchiness.  In with the Young Mammals, out with the old Arcade Fire.

Okay, so there’s nothing particularly new about Carrots’ Beatles-by-way-of-Dr. Dog sound.  However, what sets it apart from other lackluster albums brought to you by similar young vintage souls is not only the songs’ inherent catchiness but the album’s overall cohesive nature.  While Carrots is chock-a-block with shambolic pop anthems like the Arcade Fire-influenced “Stay to the Left” and the sunny “Dragon Wagon,” the Young Mammals aren’t afraid to veer from the melodic chant-rock that, more or less, defines the album.

Tracks like the instrumental interlude “Weather Bee” (complete with a sad sack Huckleberry Hound horn section) and the faint ambient room noise of the off-kilter closer “Untitled” immediately differentiates the Young Mammals from the Springsteen-butt-sniffing bar bands who won’t put out an album until every song resembles an over-inflated anthem about an alcoholic garbage man who writes poetry on cocktail napkins.  Even more impressive are the slower numbers, such as “8 4 8,” a song who’s chorus croons about Jesus and some cholo named Nestor, and the circus-on-the-beach whimsy of “The Man in the Cannon.”

These variations from song to song - whether they charge with megaphone shout singing, meander with gorgeously slowburning chords or just simply make a clatter of noise - give Carrots a well-textured sound that escapes blandness by never staying in similar territory for too long.  However, what ties the album together is the melodic sensibility that every track hints at (some louder than others), as well as the warm production that leaves a vinyl-crackle over every song.

The penultimate track, “Duck,” is a stand-out amongst stand-outs that best exemplifies the separate but equal qualities that make Carrots work so well.  Starting with a humble melody, it builds on a chorus of “Oooos” and “Ahhhhs” until it reaches its eardrum rattling coda, finding these Young Mammals locking in rhythmically to a cloud of noise that leads perfectly into the blown-out ear whistling of “Untitled.”  The age of the LP may be dead but the Young Mammals sure as shit ain’t.