Wooden Indian Burial Ground

On the eve of Wooden Indian Burial Ground’s debut LP (out now on Mon Amie Records), the psychedelic Portland fellows patched together a last-minute tour to make their way to CMJ where they told us all about the dirty things they would do to Romney and shared tales of a wonder and genius man named Matt Laslo.

You’re pretty wild onstage, Justin. Is there anyone who inspires the spazz?

Justin Fowler: I would say Leonard Cohen’s live albums. He’s a chill dude with real mellow records, but then you listen to his live records, and he’s, like, screaming, drunk on red wine. He can be real mellow on vinyl, but real weird onstage. Tom Waits is another for onstage. I don’t like to see people onstage acting super bored. You gotta jump around. We also do a lot of improv stuff. We never do the same thing, ever, so a lot of the jumping around is locking in with each other.

Yeah, you guys don’t really face the audience. You face each other.

Perry Pfister: Yeah, I feel like it’s making it feel the most natural, as if we were just practicing.

J: We usually set up on the floor. Here, we couldn’t do it. I prefer being the same level as the audience. I like playing all-ages shows too…I’m, like, 32, and I like running around with 16 year-old kids.

Dan Galucki: I feel like it’s so much easier to connect with people when you’re right there, too, to get people into it.

Has anyone ever gotten TOO close to you guys?

D: Usually it's the other way around.

J: Yeah, I’m like, ‘YEAH! Lick my guitar!’ I make other people uncomfortable.

Would you rather vote for Obama and have to have sex with Mitt Romney or vote for Mitt Romney and have to have sex with Obama?

D: I’m just gonna sleep with Biden, all the way, dude.

J: Can I just rub one out and not vote? [All laugh] I support voting, though. But not if I have to fuck a Republican. What about this: could I come on Romney’s face and vote for Obama?

I’m not sure if that counts, but I mean if he’s cool with it…

J: I’d blast him, and then I’d responsibly vote. I fucking hate Romney more than anything in the world.

So sounds like you’re definitely voting for Obama this year.

J: Yeah, I’m planning on voting for Obama and coming on Romney.

D: I’m planning on fucking Obama pretty soon. It’s gonna happen. [All laugh]

Just fit that into the tour schedule, a stop in D.C.

J: We actually just played there. We played a house show at the Paper House, a fucked-up house in D.C., and we met the congressional correspondent for about twelve stations or more: Matt Laslo. He’s the Hunter S. Thompson of D.C. We partied with him, and then he got us press passes for the next day and took us through the nitty-gritty of the fucking Capitol Building, like the places other people aren’t allowed to go. He showed us how the NPR sound booth is right next to the Fox News booth.

D: He’s a great dude. He’s a fantastic dude. He lives life to the hilt, as they say.

Rainbow Brite or Strawberry Shortcake?

J: Strawberry Shortcake, all the way. She’s pretty cute…not in a gross way.

D: Rainbow Brite’s cute, dude, come on!

J: I don’t remember, but I do like rainbows more than dessert, so…can I just take it back and say Rainbow Brite?

D: Jem. I’m gonna say Jem.

Where’s the worst bathroom on tour?

J: All tour bathrooms are awful, but yeah, I’m gonna say…mushroom poop in the woods. [All laugh] For the record. Psychedelic poop in the woods is the worst thing, man. Do some drugs, you don’t want to fucking poop. You want to hug trees and shit. It gets real dark, and then you gotta come back, get the positive vibes back. I’d just rather not poop, ever. If I could take away poop from my life I’d be a happy man.

What questions do you want to ask the next band?

“Shoop” or “Push It”?
Have you ever feared for your life on tour?
How many times have you masturbated in strange people’s showers?
- Impose Magazine Brooklyn

First things first: Thanks a million to Brooklyn-based publicist Mona Dehghan for introducing me to the wild and wondrous world of Wooden Indian Burial Ground. Apparently, this Portland combo has been kicking around for several years, but since they have yet to appear on any incarnation of Law & Order, it’s understandable that our paths haven’t crossed. What I can tell you is that Wooden Indian Burial Ground wowed both veteran New York Times music writer Jon Pareles and NPR music critic and All Songs Considered host Bob Boilen with a recent performance at the CMJ Music Marathon in New York City. Pareles wrote, “They ride their rudimentary riffs toward euphoric dementia,” and Boilen described them as "the rare breed of psychedelic garage music that rises above the mediocrity of most bands making this sort of music these days and gets me remembering why I've loved this kind of music for so long," before naming them one of his favorite 10 discoveries of CMJ.

I can likewise verify that the band’s soon-to-be-released, self-titled album (on Mon Ami Records) is not only hotter than a habañero smoothie, it is also triumphantly and unabashedly weird. WIBG revel in low-fi garage rock primitivism, but that’s just genre camouflage for a lot of freaked-out hollering, and bad-trip guitar solos, with occasional flashes of surf, punk, soul, and waltzing gloom. Can we just call it junk-drawer rock? Bandleader Justin Fowler (guitar, vocals) was kind enough to answer my inane questions while prepping his band mates for Friday's album release show at Doug Fir Lounge.

First, let’s hear a little about yourselves. Names? Ages? Are you all from Portland? Have any of you been in other noteworthy projects?

Justin Fowler, 32, Portland. Bands included Please Step out of the Vehicle, Run-on-Sentence, Curious Hands, Thee Electric Witch

Paul Seely, 28, Salem. Builders and the Butchers, Autopilot is for Lovers, Porches, Alameda, Pancake Breakfast

Dan Galucki, 27, Ballstown, Maine. Run-on-Sentence, Zeb Dewar, Please Step out of the Vehicle, Old Believers

Perry Pfister, 29, New Orleans. Run-on-Sentence, PWRHAUS

WIBG is such a wild and weird confluence of sounds: garage, surf, soulful testifying, girl-group/doo-wop, punk, rockabilly, even some Gothy elements. What’s the songwriting process like for you guys?
Pretty simple. I usually write and compose on a piano or acoustic guitar. And when I feel like it's a song, I teach it to the dudes and we fuck it up and ruin all my hard work. Lots of the songs on our new LP were tracked hours or a few days after I taught 'em to the boys. I like things to sound ramshackle, so you can't know the song too well before you record it. Paul, Perry, and Dan are insane musicians. I can just throw them a tune and we can get it to tape in a couple takes.

Who are some of your influences, musical and otherwise? I’m guessing Link Wray, The Cramps, Santo & Johnny, The Fall, Flat Duo Jets, Man or Astroman, Misfits, The Cure, Pixies, Modern Lovers.
I'm not speaking for the boys here, because we all listen to all sorts of shit... From your list, I can say Modern Lovers, Link Wray, The Cure, and the Cramps have def influenced the way things sound. My main influences as a songwriter are much broader, though. Silver Jews, Tom Waits, Delia Derbyshire, Daphne Oram, Leonard Cohen, Billy Childish, Ennio Morricone, Dead Moon, White Noise, Stooges, T. Rex, Kinks, Swans, Neil Young, Bauhaus, Magnetic Fields … Lots of contemporary and more obscure stuff too, but those bands come to mind first. I dunno, I could go on forever. Painting, printmaking, friends, and family are also major influences.

What transpired at CMJ that resulted in the outpour of love from NYT and NPR? Will this media “blitz” result in more hometown shows?
We've stepped up our game the last 4-5 months... The new material from the record we just finished translates better live than our previous works. More energy, more chaos. Luckily Bob Boilen from NPR and the New York Times (guy) were at the bar during our set. We tend to play 1-3 times a month in Portland when we aren't on tour, so I dunno if that's a good idea. We'll be banished if we play more than that.

How ambitious are you? If the answer is “very” or “yes,” what would some of these ambitions or goals be?
I'd say, yes, very. The goal is to have as much fun as possible while paying our rent outta the band fund. The rent thing hasn't happened yet, but we are kicking ass and taking names in the fun department.

If someone pointed a large caliber handgun at your head and told you to describe WIBG in 25 words or less, how would you respond?
I'd say, "Ah geez, put the gun down, man. Don't get all Phil Spector on my ass." - Portland Monthly

Wooden Indian Burial Ground is a four piece, low-fi, garage/psychedelic rock band that is making cross country waves with their new self titled LP. After impressing the shit out of CMJ in NYC, the band is making their way back to Portland for their November 2 show at the Doug Fir. I got a chance to talk with front-man Justin Fowler about the new record, and we took a listen to some songs that they’ve been blasting on the road.

Rip City Review: How is the new LP different than some of your older recordings?

Justin Fowler: This LP is a whole different beast. I probably should have changed the band name. I recorded it in our living room to tape with a full band. Dan, Paul and Perry are insane musicians…it was super fun making a full band rock album. On My Bones, Judy (also a very talented musician)and I took our time and had a friend engineer the whole thing, it was well planned and thought out. With the new LP I just showed the dudes the songs, and we put them to tape hours later. Then Paul and I busted out the overdubs with no real plan or idea what the end result would be. It’s a ramshackle, chaotic, fast and super fun way of doing things.

RCR: Do you have any pre-recording rituals?

JF: Tequila! If we can’t hit a take when recording we drop our pants and that usually works.

RCR: What is your inspiration lately?

JF: I’ve been listening to a lot of early female electronic musicians like Daphne Oram & Delia Derbyshire. They were super ahead of their time, and it reminds me to keep moving forward with art and music.

RCR: What is the most difficult thing about touring?

JF: Money is the hardest thing, or lack of. You make just enough to get from point A to point wherever, and a flat tire or a headlight out can screw you over. Everything else is golden. I love sleeping on floors and meeting random people who take you in and make you food and treat you with blind kindness. Even in the shittiest of American cities you’ll find warm-hearted people who’ll show you a good time and open up their homes.

RCR: What is your earliest live show memory?

JF: My mom took me to a Grateful Dead concert. I was young, and it was rad. I remember this dude kept rolling over my feet…I wanted to kick him, but my mom explained to me that he was having a bad trip. Then she explained what a bad trip was so I ignored him and watched Jer Bear wank on the guitar. Pretty mind opening experience for a kid, Thanks ma!

RCR: Do you have any memories of a show going badly for you?

JF: No way! Every show is positive in some way. Things can go wrong, but something good will come; either a learning experience or a new friend, or something else. It’s never a wholly terrible thing.

RCR: How did you connect with Mon Amie Records in Brooklyn?

JF: Mona was a friend of a friend in Seattle. I would play house shows at this place called The Office of Dr. Glorious. She came to a few and we became friends. I hadn’t heard from her for a while, then she contacted me randomly and asked me to join her new label. I had taken some time off playing music because I was a little burned out, and she got me back into it. Since then she’s become one of my best friends and I have her to thank for how far this band has come along over the last year.

RCR: What is your spirit animal?

JF: The donkey. I’ve always felt at one with the donkey. - Rip City Review

With shrieking-banshee guitar and a caravan full of echo, Wooden Indian Burial Ground have delivered one of the best records of the year—local or otherwise. The Portland four-piece's new self-titled album, whose vinyl incarnation came out October 30 on Mon Amie Records, is a devastating, earthquaking trip to catatonia by the funnest means possible. The heavy, dirty, garage squalor sounds like it will cast out old evil spirits and attract some new ones along the way. While they haven't quite broken through to name recognition in their own hometown, with the release of the eight-song Wooden Indian Burial Ground I confidently expect that to change; the group deservedly made a splash at CMJ a couple weeks back, and this record shows all that they're capable of. It's fearsome and awesome. Time to get on board. - Portland Mercury

Mon Amie Records, 2012
8.5 / 10.0

Beginning as a duo in 2008, the Portland quartet Wooden Indian Burial Ground are a band (as one might assume from their name) that make perfect music for people that really get into this time of year. Of course, what I mean by this ‘time of year’ is Halloween. By ‘really get into’, I mean those who appreciate the fun of being scared. As I am an extremely willing member of that audience, I can’t help but think that Wooden Indian’s self-titled sophomore LP is one of the more enjoyable records to have hit shelves this year. Wooden Indian Burial Ground are Justin Fowler (guitars, vocals), Dan Galucki (drums), Perry Pfister (bass), and Paul Seely (keys, vocals). Together they add yet another element to the already loaded Portland music scene, but that new sound is something that you might be familiar with just a bit further south.

The key to understanding the sound of Wooden Indian Burial Ground is in knowing the dark neo-psychedelic rock of San Francisco. Over the last several years, artists like Thee Oh Sees, Royal Baths, and Ty Segall has transformed San Francisco into a breeding ground for warped, nightmare psychedelia with echoed percussion and swirling guitar effects. The city has become a sort of sludge factory for indie rock. Wooden Indian Burial ground shares a lot of that aesthetic, but with a key difference. Where a good Oh Sees’ record can have the listener wallowing in a sea of despair by it’s end, Wooden Indian’s sound brings a certain element of levity to the music. One would have to assume this has a little to do with the same Portland scene that has spawned much lighter fare from artists like Agesandages, Wild Flag, and The Decemberists. Justin Fowler seems to confirm this suspicion when he described Portland’s effect on the band’s sound in an interview with Mon Amie Records, “It’s gloomy in the winter, which makes gloomy songs. Then it’s super beautiful all summer, which makes for fun songs.”

The lead single from Wooden Indian Burial Ground, “Sparklerella”, is a great example of this dichotomy. The song combines the typically dark San Francisco tones with an almost Go! Team-esque sing-a-long chorus. The name itself sounds like a great title for a Roger Corman film. In a lot of ways, Roger Corman makes for a perfect counterpoint to the music Wooden Indian Burial Ground; dark but campy and fun. The incongruous nature of that content isn’t going to be for everyone. But, the people that do love will really love it. Elsewhere on the record, there are a few signposts that music geeks will love to recognize. “Bryant St. Death Cult” has the sort of twisted marching cadence that we all love to here great modern day Tom Waits songs. The lead-off track, “Helicopter!” is the sort of avant-punk noise you expect to hear from Nick Cave, with a sliver of grindhouse go-go to drive the beat.

I have a feeling that many of my own contemporaries might guffaw at the argument I am about to make (even a few amongst the Earbuddy staff). Nevertheless, I’ve got to say it. With this new record, I believe Wooden Indian Burial Ground have done something much better than any of those San Francisco groups have turned out this year. The fact that the band doesn’t take themselves as seriously as Thee Oh Sees makes Wooden Indian Burial Ground a much easier listen than Putrifiers II and the sound here if fuller and more interesting than anything Ty Segall has created in 2012 (gasp). The music fits in perfectly with those other records, but the element of fun and the way the sound evolves over the course of the record make Wooden Indian Burial Ground an album that I am likely to come back to more often. I am thankful to say that this isn’t a band you have to watch in the future. This is a band you have to watch now. Their sound is well-conceived and fully-formed. On a more basic level, this is silly fun done right. Wooden Indian Burial Ground know it’s only rock and roll, and I like that.

Key Tracks:
“Helicoper!”
“Sparklerella”
“Crows” - Ear Buddy

This is the perfect music to drink to. It can even make Pabst taste good (you know you hate the taste of Pabst, hipsters, or have you moved on to another cheap alternative?) This is the music that should be playing in every house party on the wrong side of the tracks. I imagine it’s no coincidence that this Portland band’s name is a reference to the wooden indian sold by infamous Portland crimp, Bunko Kelly to a ship captain, which was angrily cast overboard when the ship captain couldn’t wake his wooden crewman. I hope that was intentional, but if it is coincidence, then the rock ‘n’ roll gods have blessed them with a great name.

Regardless of their name, WIBG has found a perfect formula/dynamic between it’s four members to make some of the best psychedelic garage rock ‘n’ roll that is out there right now. Everything from the “whoops” or “yips” or whatever the hell the singer yells at least once in almost all of their songs, to the violent use of guitars smothered in fuzz and reverb and that perfect vintage sound, to the creepy organ played masterfully and always placed in the right spots,this band plays psychedelic rock ‘n’ roll exactly how it should be played; loud, loose, and free, as if it’s all about to just fall apart. Many have tried to walk the fine line between garage rock and just sloppy bullshit, and most have failed. Not Wooden Indian Burial Ground. You can tell that each of them has the musical chops to exceed the expectations of an indie “garage” band.

Their latest self-titled release, out October 4th on Mon Amie Records, is an 8 song trip that feels much longer than only 35 minutes. That being said, it is very well condensed. At no point on this record did the psychedelic break-downs last too long. In other words, you’re not left wondering, “what the hell are they doing?” or, “why are they still milking the feedback?”. WIBG brings you down into it, then pulls you back up out of it just in time. There really isn’t a boring spot on this record. It really is ALL good, from the balls-to-the-walls opener, “Helicopter”, to the marching cadence of “Waltz for Eldritch”, to the dark and tremendous guitars of “Bryant St. Death Cult”. For me, though, nothing beats “Sparklerella”. Complete with a female background chorus reminiscent of zombie prom cheerleaders, the “signature” screams that you’ll notice in other WIBG songs, insane guitar work, and a stellar organ solo that is the perfect length, that song has it all; including a few “whoops”, of course. It’s enough to make a sober man sway and stagger like a drunkard. - Train Wreck'd Society

Wooden Indian Burial Ground is fucked up in all the right ways. The four piece psych-garage outfit play with the nihilistic intensity that defined early punk music yet they take the spirit in a more experimental direction as can be heard on this month’s self-titled release. The album is an energetic, gritty and chaotic collection that maintains an accessible element within its’ visceral noise breaks and discordian shouts. Surf rock undertones, splashes of doo-wop swooning and a vaudevillian waltz provide just enough of a pop sensibility to keep the album from falling too far into the disorienting fuzz of musical anarchy, but not so much that you don’t get a taste of its influence. The droning feedback and cymbal crashes contrast the nostalgic throwbacks to pop foundation to create an album that is unique and powerful, but not without a hint of satire. Wooden Indian Burial Ground reminds us of our musical origins but does so in a way that implies the way they have been warped and distorted, which may be what makes their style so relevant. When the most accessible music today is created with the purpose of topping charts and making money, we need bands like Wooden Indian Burial Ground to fuck things up a little bit. –Benjamin Toledo
- The Deli NYC

Wooden Indian Burial Ground, a guitar-bass-drums band from Portland, Ore., that’s particularly molten. (It’s a four-piece, including a keyboardist, on the album it will release on CD on Oct. 30.)

Melody isn’t the priority when Justin Fowler, on guitar and vocals, leads the band into its jams. As the rhythm section bears down splashily on whatever riff drives the song, Mr. Fowler pushes surf-guitar techniques — glissando, string-bending, tremolo strumming — toward their noisy, textural extremes, or he makes swoopy sounds from a low-tech analogue synthesizer that a friend built inside a beat-up bit of luggage from a thrift shop. Reverb — too much of it — garbles the vocals, but the point of the songs is the way they ride their rudimentary riffs toward euphoric dementia. That has to be its own reward. - NY Times (JON PARELES)

Wooden Indian Burial Ground are from Portland, Ore. and were the rare breed of psychedelic garage music that rises above the mediocrity of most bands making this sort of music these days and gets me remembering why I've loved this kind of music for so long. Their sonics are loud but rich, with some sort of screeching, homemade synth box and a good dose of tremolo. The drummer consistently mimicked the melody and rhythm being played by the seeming bandleader and controller of said synth box and tremolo, guitarist Justin Fowler. Don't think I understood a single word all night. Oddly for me it didn't matter — I now need to find their music - NPR - All Songs Considered (Bob Boilen

I hope that in listening to this new track from garage-psych quartet Wooden Indian Burial Ground you have the same reaction I did. That around the halfway point, when the band dissolves into a fit of feedback and static, you think, "Well, it can't get any better than that." And that's when WIBG decides to pour it on. Thick sheets of reverb, and an acid freakout guitar solo. Absolutely glorious. And there's a whole 'nother batch of verses and choruses to round out the full seven and a half minute explosion.




There's plenty of material to choose from on the band's Bandcamp page, but this is the one track I guarantee you'll keep returning to again and again. Until you are ready to shake your computer into submission, wondering aloud, "How long do I have to wait until I can hear the whole goddamn album?!" Maintain your calm until October 4, when all will be revealed. - Wilammette Week

Hot holy jeezums, Wooden Indian Burial Ground's new, self-titled record is it. The Portland four-piece hammers out jumping-bean psychedelic garage boogie that's jam-packed with yips, rips, trips, flips, and more unnecessary feedback than an employee evaluation card. Wooden Indian Burial Ground doesn't have a single dull moment on it, whether it be from the full-throttle shredfest of opener "Helicopter," the damaged military three-step of "Waltz for Eldritch," the blunted caravan roll of "Bryant St. Death Cult," or the wah-wah-strewn horror-movie theme of album closer "A Long Way from Cerrillos." With this record, Wooden Indian Burial Ground have squealed and moaned their way to the upper echelon of West Coast psych—a crowded and competitive field, to say the least. To raise money for a cross-country trip to CMJ, they're playing a record release show at Barlow Tavern, the revamped new spot (formerly the Corner Spot Tavern) brought to you by the good folks from Vendetta. NED LANNAMANN - Portland Mercury

I will never think of The Little Mermaid in the same way again. Picture this: a Czechoslovakian female sea creature dressed in a flowing blue garment and sporting an incredible nest of tangled head wear, brooding delicately on rocks near crashing waves as the psychedelic noise storms of Goodnight Billygoat, Wooden Indian Burial Ground, and Blood Beach flood the scene with strange and complex meaning.



"Where words fail, music speaks,” the host of last night's Fin de Cinema at Holocene quotes, as she introduces the movie: Mala Morska Vila, the 1976 Czech interpretation of Hans Christian Andersen's classic fairytale. A fitting sentiment for a story in which the heroine loses her voice, and tonight's music goes to great fathoms to help her tell her tale.



Goodnight Billygoat starts off the surreal movie with an ambient collage of resonance, adding to effect by synchronizing certain sounds with the action on the screen such as cymbals highlighting crashing waves and the haunting echoes of a flute as the Little Mermaid and her sisters parade through their undersea world playing flutes. Goodnight Billygoat seems to take on the challenge of creating an audio backdrop for an ocean-themed movie to heart, as their sounds transport the audience to a drifting, magical world.





As the Prince's ship becomes dismembered in the storm under the eerie gaze of our water nymph, the movie is paused for the next band to come aboard. Wooden Indian Burial Ground becomes the storm, rattling drums and moaning bass giving way to surf rock riffs emerging briefly from the chaos, then sinking beneath again. Through the use of guitar effects and a well-used slide whistle, we hear the screech and lowing of passing whales- maybe surf whales, barreling through space. As the Little Mermaid comes of age she is allowed to visit the surface for the first time. She sees fireworks exploding against the night sky and asks, “Are those stars?” (The movie is subtitled.) The explosion of sounds from the musicians syncs up perfectly with the bursts of color.



The Little Mermaid sees the Prince and admires him as he gazes at her from his sinking ship. “He's so pale,” she notices. “He's dead,” her father tells her. “He's been dead from the moment he heard you sing.” Gotta love those cheery Czechs. My other favorite line is immediately afterward, when she swims to his lifeless body: “People shouldn't sleep in the sea,” she scolds him.





Blood Beach (named after a 1980 horror movie) arrives on the scene next to bring the story to a close. In this section we see the rise and fall of the brief love between The Little Mermaid and the Prince, leading to an incredible climax that the band further emphasizes with a wild, encompassing net of sound. The theramin's hallucinogenic wail soaks through the room like ink, transporting us even further from reality and into this trippy 70's mermaid world (with a plot that's really quite a bit like Shakespeare). This band seems to know exactly how to extract the maximum intensity from the strange scenes unfolding before us, in a way that makes me wonder what it's original soundtrack must be like. Maybe it was meant to be a lighthearted film? A fish-out-of-water style rom-com? Somehow, I doubt it. All I know is, I disagree with The Little Mermaid's father when he scoffs, “The only decent thing humans ever made was wine.”


- BePortland.com

It's been awhile since the death-rattle gospel-garage of Wooden Indian Burial Ground has played a hometown show, but the group—fronted by the howl of Justin Fowler—has prepped a bunch of records for release on Brooklyn label Mon Amie Records. The first is the "Holy Mountain" 10-inch single, and the A-side is a chunky, eight-minute hurricane of Crazy Horse guitar, offset by eerie siren wails and Fowler's demented preacher holler. It's a welcome return for the group, who were missing in action for a couple years, but who have roared back to life with a fully matured, rocking sound. NED LANNAMANN - Portland Mercury

(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Mona Dehghan, the one-woman head of Brooklyn label Mon Amie Records, gave a disclaimer in describing her latest release, the 10-inch single Holy Mountain/Sunbeams and the Cosmic Ascent to Nowheresville from Portland's very own Wooden Indian Burial Ground: "I don't put out many records... just ones that kill me a little (in a good way)." That gives you an idea of what to expect from WIBG mastermind Justin Fowler, who since 2007 has put out just a spattering of "western psychedelia" songs, which have been enough to enamor, but not satisfy, intrigued listeners. Fortunately that will soon change, as more WIBG tracks are slated to be put to vinyl in the months to come, including the whimsical "The Doctor's Note," a song that spills over with atmosphere so enticing as to threaten to swallow you whole.
MARANDA BISH - Portland Mercury

Portland-based experimental folk band Wooden Indian Burial Ground is back with a new 10? set to be released August 16 via Mon Amie. It’s been three years and several band members since Wooden Indian Burial Ground’s debut LP, but since then the band has found a comfortable line-up and record label.

The 10?, titled Holy Mountain/Sunbeams And The Cosmic Ascent To Nowheresville, will provide more of the whimsical, psycho-stoner folk rock for which the band is known. If the video for the track “Funeral For The Flowers 2? tells us anything, it’s that Justin D. Fowler is back to his gypsy rock antics. The video features a garden gnome who comes to life in order to stroll sidewalks and drink whiskey. Naturally. - CMJ