I'd seen CCR Headcleaner several times before, usually an entertaining mess of fucked-up rock racket that emerged from the ashes of a Georgia band I liked called Long Legged Woman. But at their Hemlock show opening for Human Eye back in September, CCR somehow transmuted themselves from an unevenly good local band into a marauding gang of Scanners-style head-exploder telepaths and delivered a defining, transcendent, next-level performance. CCR's hypnotic and malevolent psychedelia wasn't faux-fun party-psych or disingenuously mellow Zen Center nature psych—it was more of a Jim Thompson's "Killer Inside Me" psych with elective self-surgery K-hole romps and post hate-fuck cuddle balladry. The band was possessed, the room was juiced, the audience transfixed. At points, CCR's set was suffused with a prosaic evil vibe that reminded me of the Rembrandt Pussyhorse/Locust Abortion-era Butthole Surfers live shows. Musically, CCR are way different than the Buttholes—I'm referring more to the air of all-pervading cathartic menace. Shortly afterwards, CCR went with Fuzz on a national tour (huge props to Fuzz for that act of public service) and I caught them a month later at Death By Audio in Brooklyn. They were in top road shape, which only underscored how special that show with Human Eye had been. -Anthony Bedard Bay Bridged
The perfect amounts of confused clatter, slurred lines and parts where everyone headbands at the same time, all while dipping toes deep into thrash, psychedelia and clinging onto the American rock’n’roll dreams of the sixties. -Marissa Magic Maximum Rock'N'Roll
With an acid-baked aesthetic that feels totally natural and never forced, CCR Headcleaner excel at creating damaged, synapse-frying rock that definitely seems to be channeling Royal Trux in their drug addled prime. -Aquarius Records
"CCR threw down some serious sludge punk that distanced itself from the rest of the pack by incorporating thrash, garage, and bits of glam rock. For one song, I couldn't help think that CCR had clearly listened to too much Nirvana in their youth and had decided that it wasn't heavy enough or weird enough or fucked up enough. Call it dirtbag desperation. -Zack Frederick Bay Bridged
"Always with the intent of driving a drill bit in to the temporal lobe, this go 'round for San Francisco's deviling's of dumpster diving psychedelia they take one for making one inch dowel holes and aim it right at the third eye … No need to warn anyone about not operating this under heavy equipment as it IS the heavy equipment." -Dale Merrill Smashin Transistors
"... a heavy love for stoner vibes and layers of feedback. Psych rock hasn’t sounded this fresh, unhinged, dangerous and loud in quite awhile." -Permanent Records