Secret Colours

Don’t be fooled by the u in the name. Nor the way Tommy Evans stretches his vowels like some glassy-eyed Manc. Secret Colours are not, as their Britpop-indebted debut would have you believe, blue-collar lads with bowl cuts from Northern England.

The nascent Chicago quintet whips up a highly reverential racket—mixing the stoned bliss of the Roses, the leather-clad fuzz of the Mary Chain and the Merseybeat-mining swagger of Oasis. Hell, Secret Colours even called a song “Some Might Say,” which counts as some karmic payback for all the time the Gallagher brothers knocked off the Beatles. Yes, this is a third-generation copy of the ’60s Beat-invasion sound. Fashion designers keep remaking denim jeans, so what’s the difference?

Besides, the confident psychedelic washes of Colours are hardly faded, despite coming patched with druggy clichés like “get lost in the sunshine” and “kaleidoscope eyes.” Looking young enough to be claimed as dependents on a 1040, the five band members strum and moan over cool rumbling shuffles, motorcycle roar and tambourine jangle.

“Kill me / Gently / With your favorite chemical,” Evans sighs on the narco-western “Chemical Swirl.” The hallucinogenic, shamanic mood is apparent enough—melodica, vibraslap rattles and echoing snare shots that snap like pistols—but he goes on specifically to request Ecstasy and DMT.

The drug shtick smells bogus. Which isn’t such a bad thing. Bands of this ilk are typically dazed and cocksure. Margaret Albright, a cute girl seemingly straight out of a marching band who lays organ over these tunes, is smiling and perky in the liner notes. What if the new twist is that these guys are actually adorable?

Secret Colours heat up the Beat Kitchen Saturday 14.

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