Album Review: In Blower Explosion by Del Noah & The Mt Ararat Finks
Released in 1998 on Skunk Records, In Blower Explosion is a wild ride through garage rock, rockabilly, surf, and lounge vibes. This US-based band throws it all at the wall—and somehow makes it stick. With production handled by Del Noah himself and credits that read like a who’s who of quirky talent (shoutout to Shag for the design and Andy Takakjian for the artwork), this album feels like a fever dream of retro sounds mashed up with modern flair.
Let’s talk tracks. First off, “Amish Drag Buggy” is unforgettable—not just because of its ridiculous title but because it perfectly captures the absurdity and charm of this record. The double bass groove from Eric Wilson anchors the track while Blair Walker layers on organ riffs that sound like they were ripped straight out of a ‘60s spy movie. It’s fun, chaotic, and oddly danceable. You can almost picture some rebellious Amish kid tearing down a dirt road in a souped-up buggy as the song plays. That image alone stays stuck in your head long after the needle lifts.
Another standout is “The Ghost Of Dragstrip Hollow.” This one leans into classic surf-rock territory, complete with twangy guitar licks and Vince Meghrouni’s saxophone wailing like a banshee. There’s something cinematic about it—like you’re cruising along an abandoned stretch of highway late at night, haunted by memories of drag races past. The mix by Jerry Adamowicz gives everything a crisp yet raw edge, letting each instrument shine without losing the grittiness that defines the genre.
What makes In Blower Explosion so memorable isn’t just the music—it’s the attitude. Tracks like “Mafia Staff Woody” and “Chicken” feel like inside jokes you weren’t invited to but still laugh at anyway. And when Brent Walker busts out the mandolin on certain cuts? Yeah, you don’t see that coming. The whole thing feels like a party where everyone brought their weird uncle, and somehow, it works.
If there’s one thing I’ll remember about this album, it’s how unapologetically bonkers it is. One minute you’re listening to marimbas, the next you’re knee-deep in rockabilly chaos. But hey, maybe that’s the point. Life’s too short for boring music, right?
Oh, and here’s a random thought: If this album had a smell, it’d probably be gasoline mixed with Hawaiian punch. Cheers to that.
