The Purrs are a Seattle psych-rock outfit who’ve made promises to each other and kept them to their audience. Existing for more than a decade, The Purrs are crushed by their day jobs, unlucky in love, soaked in whiskey, and renowned for their blistering live performances. Their music is made for the late hours: an after work visit to the bar, dollars crumpled in pocket from being clumped in a fist; the same formation of a fist that extends outward for their roaring guitar solos, and blues lyricism crossed with Thurston Moore pedal stomps. The Boy With Astronaut Eyes is The Purrs’ proud seventh full-length.
The Purrs understand that personal battles are won with rock and roll, optimism comes from release, and that these stories are meant to be shared. They “grab a table in the back, and start throwing them down.” That’s not to say that they’re purely rabble-rousers. The Purrs engage in multiple harmony vocals (from Jima, also on bass, and Liz Herrin, also on guitars), which allows them to drift from aggressive to sultry, and lonely and down and out to unified and hopeful. The dual guitars (Jason Milne and Herrin) organically drift from punk to country to shoegaze, aided by a strong rhythm section (Craig Keller on drums). The Boy With Astronaut Eyes is peppered with longing, desperation, coos and howls; as Jima sings on “You, the Medicine and Me”, “true beauty awaits/for those who want it.” Much like how this sentiment is timeless, The Purrs brand of rock and roll devotionals are something that is never tiresome –(Soundcloud)