Debut LP from SPACIN', the newly formed Philadelphia act that's bringing together kick-flippers, arm-wrestlers, and hackey-sackers in head-nodding, beer swilling unity. Inhales the same fumes that fuel the Velvets workout at the gymnasium, the Stooges sleazy-fuzz with Asheton on guitar, and the groovy zen of Nigeria '70.
"Originally a basement-only solo thing consisting of Killinger playing guitar through a pyramid of amps accompanied by a drum machine, Spacin’ has started to squeak itself above ground and into the barrooms of the city with a fully functioning lineup. The dude doesn’t even need the drum machine anymore; he’s got his wife EVA pounding the skins! Sneak previews of their upcoming debut full-length Deep Thuds, shows a unit who knows the economic gain to be had from a good, hypnotic riff. For those who have ever gotten lost for days in the strains of the Velvet Undergrounds’ ‘Sister Ray,’ Jonathan Richmans’ ‘Roadrunner,’ Hawkwinds’ ‘Silver Machine’ or even Deep Purples’ ‘Space Truckin,’’ repeated listening to Spacin’ is required in excessive doses.”—Tony Rettman
"...it's a record that's patient, flows beautifully, offers sludgy production, and is packed with killer hooks. It's an album that uses fuzzed-out guitar for bursts of gutter shredding ferocity. It's a record that sounds like it could owe as much to Grouper as it does to the Velvet Underground or Hawkwind or the Stooges. No, it's not a nonstop shredfest like Birds of Maya's albums, but each deep thud rules." -Evan Minsker, Pitchfork.com