Couldn't even feign to have any form of knowledge of
Panda Kid, besides the tag-deduced facts that whoever he may be hails from somewhere or other within the unthinkably enormous West Coast utopia that is California, and sees himself to be conjoining a couple dots between he and Wavves, Ty Segall, et al. However scrounge about the internets a little, and it'd appear that the Yank state is more a spiritual dwelling as opposed to the place called
casa, as the 'Kid in fact comes from Povolaro,
in periferia di Vicenza. That's that. Although it's not this geographical goose chase that's got me riding the lo-fi this morning, but rather the effervescent tropical pop of Surfer Girl. Like Pablo Díaz-Reixa's Coconot before him, it's to your ears what a potent, if gritty beachside piña colada straight outta hollowed-out pineapple is to the tongue. Equal parts joyous, cacophonous, and utterly intoxicating, it may not be quite how Brian Wilson imagined his little Surfer Girl to turn out, but it's a loveably scatty recording well worth diving on into irregardless.
