Love songs from the garage for the rejected, the ugly, the divorced, the unemployed, the impotent, etc. Two parts drunk, one part lonely.
Organ Wolf explores nearly everything thats ever been done with an electric organ in popular music, including skittish pop, warbly fusion, green-onion funk, and skanky garage-party make out music.
Monica Kendrick - Chicago Reader
This local quartet made a nice little splash in 2002 with its self-titled, self-released debut, a garage-lab concoction of fuzzy undulations and lava-lamp burble. The new I Didn’t Come Here and I’m Not Leaving (So You Can Just Kiss My Ass That’s What You Are), picks up where that left off and then some. The band’s still churning out space rock and the organ’s still central, but the music is richer and more variegated. “Demon E” achieves liftoff on heavily patinated, crusty-chunky guitar lines. The horns on “Dancing Shoes,” one of the relatively few tracks with vocals and lyrics, are languorous a la Soft Machine. This is out-of-time music—smart background for a righteous nerd party with lots of sci-fi talk and rubbery dancing.
Tim Tuten - The Hideout Newsletter
Organ Wolf knows their history. They know where the Hammond Organ came from. The Church, Jazz, Pop, Soul, Funk. Memphis,with the Stax Horns... Organ Wolf! Now with some study, I can appreciate this band all the more. The music that snakes up the Mississippi that comes tonight to shake up yo' ass. Get UP! Stand UP! Let's git the Juke Joint Jumpin'!
“Take an old Hammond organ, soak it in beer, throw it in a truck and back it into the swamp.” Sounds Like: Greasy food, sweaty sex, the south if it were overrun with Ghettotech idiot savants from Chicago.
Professionalism (Scale of 1-10): 0.
Soul (Scale of 1-10): 10.
Drug Use: Probable
Organ Wolf specialize in their own very special blend of wacked out, Hammond organ freakery coupled with ancient sampler doo-dads, broken synthesizer riffs, Memory Man trumpet textures, wicked drums, toilet seat guitar and, last but not least, sexy bass player dance stylings. Extremely rowdy stuff to be sure.