A new Dischord Records co-release and as is usually the case with these, we're once again dealing with a group whose members had their hands in a whole shitload of important bands spanning several decades of Washington, D.C. punk history, the most obvious of these probably being the likes of Kerosene 454, Channels, Beauty Pill, Soccer Team, Office of Future Plans, Alarms And Controls and to make this namedropping-circlejerk complete, the whole thing has been recorded by Jawbox's J. Robbins. But here's the thing with many of these more recent Dischord releases: They rarely ever sound like a tired rehash or bloodless nostalgia-driven cash-in. It's a unique quality of many actors in this particular scene, the ability of staying true to their own musical heritage while still sounding every bit as vital and passionate as back in the day, willing to do the work necessary for making this by now very oldschool thing sound as fresh as ever, helped by an apparent inability to half-ass any of it.
What i said about Uranium Club's effect on garage punk a couple weeks back, similar things i can attest to this Oakland group concerning their particular (sub-)genre. Here we have a new LP by another band who, despite far from being the most prolific of acts out there, has clearly sent plenty of ripples through the post- and art punk scene of recent years. It's been over five years since their last record and surely things have kept moving since then, as evidenced by a matured sound on display here that once again presents them on the cutting edge of their own niche, considerably advancing and developing their sound and craft while still retaining all the traits that made them so special in the first place. What's already been forshadowed with their 2022 digital single Dirty Water comes into full bloom here - their songs and arrangements, while still being every bit as eleborate and angular constructions, have gained a lot in terms of elegance and melodic sensibility, their compositions always being grounded in careful and intricate songwriting craftsmanship. Songs like the brilliant first single See It Too kinda channel the most melodic and catchy aspects of '70s Wire while enriching those smartypants aesthetics with tons of human warmth and sincere emotion.
Now here's some brilliant shit i've been totally unprepared for, certainly having a mind of its own and being delightfully out of touch with the zeitgeist! Sure, the whole thing feels kinda old. I'm kinda old too, so i like that. Imagine the likes of Saccharine Trust, Minutemen, Swell Maps and The Pop Group partaking in an occult ritual to conjure up an ancient '60s acid rock demon, an unholy crossbreed of psych- and math rock. This is quite terribly self-indulgent of course, but that aspect kinda comes with both of those genres, i guess. At this point i'm pretty sure you've already made up your mind about it and know if you're gonna love or hate it. In my humble opinion, what the Philadelphia group hallucinates up here is pretty fucking swell and totally should be legalized!
Holy fuck, has it seriously been a whopping five years already since the last LP by one of the most influential, defining groups of the current era of quirky and intelligent garage punk? It certainly didn't seem that long to me and part of that might be down to their distinct mix of playful, angular and elaborate garage- and art punk having been such an omnipresent undercurrent of so many things that have happened in the last few years, with groups such as Dumb, Vintage Crop, Pinch Points, Aborted Tortoise, Reality Group, Yammerer and Patti being only the tip of the iceberg concerning groups that appear to have taken some inspiration from them at one point or another. On their fourth LP so far, Uranium Club keep expanding their stylistic scope as well, showcasing a matured songwriting ability which pays off especially well in slower numbers like the strummy and folk-ish garage pop almost-a-ballad Tokyo Paris L.A. Milan, which unites some qualities of groups á la Wireheads, Tyvek and The UV Race, or in The Ascent. with its pronounced Television-esque vibes. Like any of their previous albums, this is nothing short of an instant genre classic!
A bucketload of unhealthy sugary joy, the second EP by this NY act delivering a quirky and catchy mix of synth- and garage-, art- and eggpunk that skillfully and precisely hits kind of a sweet spot inbetween the sonic worlds of, say, Metdog, Smirk and Cherry Cheeks, more or less. Good shit!
The second EP by this San Francisco group, coming to us by way of the weirdo suits at the headquarters of Discontinuous Innovation Inc., marks a quite impressive step up in energy, sophistication, elegance and stylistic variety after their already perfectly enjoyable debut cassingle in 2020. In the year 2024, their quirky and chaotic mix of postcore, post- and art punk with just a smidge of garage punk thrown in for good measure is still gonna evoke universally favorable comparisons to quirky noisemakers in the vein of Rolex, Patti, Reality Group, Big Bopper, Warm Bodies, Uranium Club and Brandy.
Songs about motor vehicles aren't quite as ubiquitous as they once were and i'm just gonna say say deservedly so because honestly, that ancient, most wasteful mode of personal transportation can't be phased out soon enough and the future clearly belongs to all varieties of bikes and trains. But here we go, it's an unlikely new EP made up of nothing but carpunk tunes. Musically the thing slaps though, their weird and whimsical mix of art- and garage punk being of similar character to household names such as Vexx, Cel Ray, Warm Bodies, Warp or Fugitive Bubble.
A dense and noisy post punk spectacle unfolds on this Richmond, Virginia group's debut EP, its four elaborately constructed songs making a fully mature and confident impression already. At times this has a curious vibe of, say, Straw Man Army plus a subtle trace of Poison Ruïn while in other places this shit reminds me a lot of some of the past decade's more melancholy and song-oriented post punk acts in the vein of early Estranged, Public Eye, Criminal Code, Bruised, VHS, Waste Man as well as Atlanta heavyweights Wymyns Prysyn and Institute/Mothers's Milk.
Cleveland's Knowso for sure have been among the most idiosyncratic and memorable groups of the past couple years. Their newest full length shows them at the height of their strength once again, their amalgamation of post punk, noise- and math rock still coming across just as quirky and whimsical as it is tight, rigid and angular all the same, combining a seemingly procedural and efficient, mathematical approach with an amount of fun and catchyness you wouldn't really expect inside these rough parameters. At this point, their sound is pretty much their own thing but if you absoiutely must compare them to other groups, you might find some similarities to stuff such as Brandy, Landowner, Big Bopper or maybe Nag in their more approachable moments.
Following a thoroughly enticing debut EP last year, Bergen, Norway group Sklitakling present an even stronger first LP, retaining the strummy, quirky charm of the debut while expanding and branching out stylistically. Their songwriting has won a lot of contour since then, their idiosyncratic arrangements coming across much crisper now. Despite their norwegian origin, i can't help but feel reminded of the danish scene of the past decade - the Copenhagen approach to post punk you might say - with the likes of Iceage, Melting Walkmen, Spines and, just recently, Pleaser coming to mind at various points as having a similar sense of melancholy and melody. In addition, there's a distinct cowpunk vibe at play here, kinda like an LSD-soaked early Angst, Gun Club and, especially, the more recent hallucinogenic existential nightmare of Murderer.
