The second EP of this Atlantic Beach, Florida group delights with a wholly infatuating make of simple, compact and catchy garage- and fuzz punk goodness that actually comes with some unexpectedly varied collection of vibes, at one point or another channeling qualities you might associate with groups such as Satanic Togas, New Berlin, Buck Biloxi, Set-Top Box, Spits, Die TV or Penance Hall.
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Following an intoxicatingly strong debut EP last summer, the follow-up by french psychedelic rock wizard Remy Pablo delivers more of that same overwhelming goodness stubbornly executing its very own notion of pulsating loops and blown-out drones at the intersections of psych- and space rock, post-, art-, proto- and garage punk with more than just a little of an MX-80-, Chrome- and Métal Urbain vibe to it.
A magnificent debut single by a nebulous group from nowhere serves up two undeniably tasty synth punk anthems reminiscent as much of the 2000s indie rock era (as in: Remember when Pitchfork was a thing?) as of more recent phenomena in the Cherry Cheeks, Ope or Smirk vein, with a frosting of Digital Leather-esque flavors on top. What’s not to like about that?
Even in the face of pretty much anything that loose collective of musicians gathered around the New York label Decoherence Records has done so far, Gay Cum Daddies still stuck out as one of its most baffling agents of chaos and mischief. In a way, their newest LP is almost what you’d expect of this group at this point, an unwieldy bastard made of atonal and chaotic, no-wave-ish noise that, despite all the clutter and cacophony, never seems random. More than ever before, i get a sense of this group being totally in control of their craft at all times, their nerve-racking jams never leaving a trace of doubt that these dudes do indeed have a master plan. A weird, convoluted and disjointed one for sure, but a plan nonetheless. Once you’ve re-wired your brain to almost make sense of it, it feels like the most transgressive and shocking thing ever when Ribboning Boulder Hands Over Data actually has a discernible 4/4 beat playing for, like, a whole 30 seconds.
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The second EP by this Karlsruhe, Germany group is also the first taste we’re getting of an upcoming album and just like their excellent demo tape at the end of last year, this thing combines the grimy dungeon-esque garage vibes the group obviously inherited from Thee Khai Aehm, whose members comprise half of this group’s lineup, with a distinct flourish of proto punk primitivism, plenty of spaced-out psychedelic excess á la late Destruction Unit, some hardcore energy in Tear It Up and even some melodic flourishes in My Dawn, while the closing track Inte Mer Hem is nothing short of raw and simple dungeon punk perfection.
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The debut album of this Austin, Texas dude has ten exquisite bursts worth of pure simplistic garage punk spectacle in store for us – same old shit basically, but also really, really fucking good, like, combining the traits of Buck Biloxi, Giorgio Murderer, Bart and the Brats, The Achtungs, The Dirts and earlier Sick Thoughts, these songs never miss their mark and admirers of the groups mentioned should just be on their knees already, begging this dude to take their money.
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The second tape by this New York group, brought to us by local NY specialist label Fuzzy Warbles Cassettes, is an insanely satisfying mixture oscillating between the parameters of relaxed garage punk and equally slacked-off indie rock, a bit like a more indie rock-leaning Vaguess mixed with some early Woolen Men, Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys, recent Datenight or maybe a less cramped version of that latest Monda LP.
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The Leipzig post-/garage punk scene never ceases to amaze, as Autobahns already did on occasion of their split EP with the also brilliant S.G.A.T.V.. Now here’s their full-length debut co-released by three usual-suspect labels from around the globe and this one’s a treat, folks! Right from the start there’s some strong Billiam-esque energy to these songs, moderately egg-ish garage punk smashers that also call to mind stuff like Tommy Cossack, Set-Top Box and further eccentricities of the Snooper, Beer or Prison Affair kind or maybe Germany’s very own Egg Idiot. Tellin’ Ya transports some of the best traits of recent Vaguess records into a more distinct eggpunk context. All the while, Autobahns operate as a super-tight unit here, expertly kicking up a hell of a storm while never losing their ironclad grip on their melodic sensibilities… this is some catchy shit all the way through, reaching its peak in the undiluted noise pop ecstasy of Loss Of The Rights.
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Now this group has been a complete blind spot for me so far and as such, an unexpected and thoroughly enjoyable rabbit hole to dig into. Accordingly, for a group that has been around for over two decades already, this whole thing is a pleasantly old-fashioned affair showcasing a group that doesn’t have to take shit from anyone. Musically, this mostly carries the torch of predominantly australian punk royalty with the likes of Saints, Birdman, New Christs, God and Scientists looming large above these tunes. There’s also some amount of Cheap Trick-like power pop melodies to be found here as well though, plus occasional flavors of Wipers, Dead Moon, New York Dolls or 13th Floor Elevators. I’m pretty sure fans of Split System are gonna get a kick out of this shit as well, just as will those who miss such last-decade groups like Brimstone Howl and Apache Dropout.
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One of the best kept secrets of the contemporary australian garage punk underground demonstrates its godlike potency once more in the form of two new digital singles amounting to three tracks in total, each one of those having its very own distinct vibe. I Wanna Be UR Simp sports a strong psychedelic flourish not entirely dissimilar to the likes of Mononegatives, Zoids, Corpus Earthling and later Useless Eaters, combined with the catchy garage pop of, say, Set-Top Box, Gee Tee and the likes. Prawn Party then plunders its way through an entirely different place and era, most in line with the current wave of pre-’77 New York revivalism as exemplified by Peace de Résistance, Jean Mignon and the most recent Institute LP but you might just as well find traces of The Drin’s kraut rock vibes and the catchy garage rockers of certain Alien Nosejob incarnations in there. TV Screen once again shapeshifts into the guise of both early New Zeeland Flying Nun-style jangly power pop á la The Clean and The Stones on one hand, and british DIY (post-)punk pioneers like The Mekons and Television Personalities on the other.
