When the Secret Machines relocated from Dallas to New York, the experimental trio of '70s-rock aficionados lived together in a one-room Brooklyn apartment that doubled as their rehearsal space. But nobody griped about bunking Brady Bunch-style. "We were our own best friends," says guitarist Benjamin Curtis. "Just sitting on our beds, out of our minds on mushrooms together."
On their shape-shifting debut, Now Here Is Nowhere, the band harness Benjamin's psychedelic noise to Josh Garza's bone-crushing drumming. Like the group's live sets (all rock, no talk), the album is a mind-bending odyssey, where lengthy, spacey tracks flow into propulsive, riff-heavy mini-anthems.
Each song is marked with a truly one-of-a-kind sonic imprint--the group hired producer Jeff Blenkinsopp (a former engineer for Pink Floyd), who rewired their gear to achieve otherworldly effects. Benjamin's brother, keyboardist/bassist/vocalist Brandon, explains the group's philosophy: "Sometimes the knob doesn't go up to 11--but it could, if you had a soldering iron."
The close-knit threesome's huge sound is matched only by a propensity for big thinking--just ask about their moniker and you'll get a treatise on technology and modern life. "I think we're coming to the realization that we're really boring guys," says Brandon. "We just talk about esoteric, weird German bands." Benjamin brainstorms a quick solution: "Maybe we should get our asses kicked by the White Stripes."
