On their second LP, this New Jersey group dabbles in a make of garage punk that feels weirdly old-fasioned and pleasantly out of touch with most genre developments of the last decade or two. Really, this artifact could have been released anytime between the classic Reatard(s) era and the last gasp of Male Bonding- or No Age-esque melodic fuzz punk in the early 2010s. Now it feels like a bit of an oddity in our times and you all know that’s the kind of shit i like best, especially if it comes with such an abundance of strikingly simple, charmingly sloppy and viciously catchy pop tunes of fuzzy, melodic bliss.
Reuben Sawyer has been active for quite a while already with various groups and projects in a wide variety of musical styles, though he only really entered the 12XU universe in 2023 with Demons Obey, his third LP under the Anytime Cowboy moniker, which has been a strange beast for sure in juxtaposing elements of blues-ish and jangly cowpunk- and garage pop with a somewhat surreal, otherworldly quality anchored by Sawyer’s uncannily calm vocal delivery. His newest LP now may as well be his strongest, most accomplished one yet, streamlining his previously somewhat cluttered disjointed sonic space into an unexpectedly cohesive whole, making his equally odd, catchy and melancholic compositions – enabled by some next-level songwriting chops – glow and sparkle like never before.
This is exactly one minute of new Eye Ball material. Well guess what, this super-wasteful cassette release via Knuckles on Stun is really freakin’ good, as is anything this band has touched so far. Only next time, maybe put like thirty to sixty of these on a tape for it to make any fucking economic and ecological sense.
Considering the rave reactions i’ve heard so far about this Melbourne group’s shows, their good-not-great 2024 debut EP so far had convinced me that their probably incredible live sound has been struggling a bit to translate into recorded form. Well, i can certainly say that this is less of an issue for much of their new mini LP which makes an overall much stronger impression for their sparkling sound that at times kinda reminds me of the psychedelic and variably surf-infused garage rock of Crsytal Stilts and Disappears mixed with a hint of early No Age and maybe White Fence, in addition to the eccentric monotonous fuzz escapades of City Yelps and the ethereal, abstract post punk melancholia of Kitchen’s Floor and Mother’s Milk… A quirky mixture that is for sure but it works quite admirably. Even when the band runs an acute risk of overstretching their most airy qualities in the record’s slow middle stretch, the bet pays off and shit just refuses to come apart, however precarious it might look at first glance..
More exciting eggpunk of the minimalist and fuzz-heavy variety comes to us from this UK-based group whose tunes don’t do much to break the established patterns at first glance, but who fucking cares really when every single one hits the nail on the head so effortless and precise in an all-killer succession of snappy and catchy-as-fuck fuzz pop attacks that call to mind a mixture of, say, Elvis 2, Kid Chrome, Power Pants, S.B.F. and Satanic Togas.
I wasn’t entirely sold on the novelty-rocker vibes of the bluesy, hard-/dad-rockin’ preview tune Hairy Man, but damn, does this new record not only get better from there on (plus, Hairy Man does work a lot better in the album context too), but there’s also easily some of the groups best material to be found on here with the following tracks Beef and Fire having plenty of an oldschool Useless Eaters and Pow! feel to them while Out Of Touch gradually dials up the levels of psychedelic haze that we’ve known at its most pronounced from their previous Perspex LP, before Hell (or rather, the first part thereof) finally kicks open the floodgates of catchy-as-fuck garage punk/fuzz pop goodness as we all know pretty much any Electric Prawns 2 record eventually does. The second circle of Hell (or maybe they’re better understood as two seperate songs, both called Hell?) takes all of the above and imbues it with a slightly campy goth note not unlike more recent Powerplant. Other notable highlights are the burst of ultra-classic aussie rock’n’roll that is Piece of Me and the in equal measure melodic and blues-infused bubblegum vibes of Waste, all of it arguably making for their overall strongest record so far. Who would’ve thought, making albums of conventional length may not be the worst idea after all!
This sheffield dude delighted in 2020/’21 with three excellent EPs of covid lockdown-spawned melodic garage punk and it appears these four tunes have also been languishing on some hard drive in half-finished form since back then and have only recently been given the finishing touches. So no surprises here really – these songs feel like a seamless continuation of that same greatness, once again taking the form of super-catchy no-frills punk tunes that seem to have equal amounts of Buzzcocks and solo-era Jay Reatard in them as well as the high-impact garage blasts of Kid Chrome and, most recently, the simple, fuzzed-out garage-/noise pop hymns of Sex Mex.
Electric Prawns 2 of Moffat Beach, Australia are back with not just one, but two new LPs, in a way highlighting two opposing vibes that have been part of the group’s stylistic DNA all along. The very deep red of the Perspex LP’s artwork could already be taken as subtle signal to proceed with caution and indeed this one is more of a downer by design, the driving Useless Eaters vibes of the opener Who’s Been Laying Eggs Under My Skin? giving way to an increasingly bleak sounding make of psychedelic garage rock that oscillates somewhere inbetween deep sadness and outright bad trip territory, up in space as much as miles underwater and always aware of the fact that both space and the deep ocean are utterly inhospitable places and only a thick steel wall is preventing your body from instantly getting reduced into half a bathtub worth of reddish goo. Feeling awesome about your fragile existence already? Don’t worry ‘cos i’ve only told you half the truth so far, with (the so far only imaginary) side B of the record kinda staying in a vintage psychedelia realm but focusing on the much more uplifting parts of that whole affair, so sunny that you’re gonna have flowers growing out of your ass in no time. The Heavy Shitters LP then is a lot closer to the friendlier, instantly recognizable vibe that has dominated much of their previous work and just wants to play and fuck around and rock out and crack lots of stupid fart jokes. Many of the record’s biggest hits are saved for the second half and especially the marvellous six-song spree going from Sick to Farted In Her Sleep is the kind of thing a lesser group would fucking kill for.
This Philadelphia group’s most recent EP delights with five wonderfully leaned-back and slightly off-kilter gems of jangly indie rock and slacker punk located somewhere inbetween the worlds of indie rockers Treehouse, Kitchens Floor, Thigh Master or, quite recently, Hungary’s Dehidratált Fejek on one one side of the equation – and the more quirky, eccentric sonics of, say, Damak, Honey Bucket, Germ House and Far Corners on the other, while the standout track Artifact sounds a bit like a mix of the dusty acid/roots/garage rock fusion of Weak Signal with the fuzzy garage pop catchyness of The Wind Ups.
An incredible three-way split tape bringing together some groups you should definitely keep your eye on in the forseeable future. Chicago’s Answering Machines start things off with a remarkable bang in the form of catchy pop tunes that seem to combine many of the most striking qualities of the late-aughts to early 2010’s fuzz punk excesses by the likes of Wavves, No Age with the propulsive power pop by groups such as Bad Sports, Warm Soda, Sonic Avenues or Scupper, while the overall fuzzed-out aesthetics and production values call to mind stuff on the rougher end of that same spectrum á la Violent Change, The Wind-Ups, Famous Mammals, Honey Bucket, Germ House, Far Corners and maybe also early Chronophage. Good Flying Birds from Indianapolis, who’ve also released an absolutely stunning debut tape just a day prior to this, then present three smashers occupying some of the whitespace inbetween the worlds of eighties jangle pop, C86-related pop goodness and plenty of late-eighties Sarah Records indie pop vibes. Pulling Hair is a tune for the ages i’d say. Rounding out things is St Louis art rock outfit Soup Activists whom i’ve admittedly had kind of a difficult time warming up to at first and still think are best enjoyed in small doses. Well, what we get here is certainly a suitably small dose of their craft and i have to concede there probably couldn’t have been a more perfect, relaxed and low-key conclusion to this amazing little cassette.
