With each new Alien Nosejob release, you never quite know what you're gonna get. An oldschool hardcore attack? Sad-sack power pop? A straight-up Ausmuteants throwback? Relentlessly hammering industrial punk? Heavily eurotrash/italo disco-informed synth pop? A full LP of AC/DC cock rock worship? I'm just gonna say all of this, and more, has happened before with Jake Robertson's constantly shape-shifting project. Yet, there's always an unmistakable signature to anything the garage punk auteur does and if there is such a thing as a "classic" Alien Nosejob sound, this new record is about as close as it's gonna get while still giving us plenty of stylistic variety molded into a super catchy set of new tunes never being let down by Robertson's unimpeachable songwriting chops.
Finally, here's the debut album of Cleveland, Ohio art punks The Carp, a group comprised of folks also connected to acts like Perverts Again, Knowso and Cruelster. With most of these songs already having made an appearance on their 2022 demo, here they're given some final polish here with the increased production values adding plenty of punch, while their sound overall kinda bridges the gap between the sonic traits of Knowso and Cruelster, combining the elaborate yet rigid structures of the former with the straght-ahead fun and energy of the latter, with even a bit of a cowpunk vibe á la Murderer in The Old Ways.
The second LP of this group from Antwerp, Belgium featuring at the very least one Member of Itches plus former members of Star Visitors and The Queefs, takes their kinda basic garage punk formula into a somewhat more eleborate and polished direction having a bit of a Vintage Crop, early Patti, Reality Group or Yammerer vibe to them, while also retaining much of the previous album's qualities reminiscent both of euro acts like Dadar, Shitty Life and US acts of the previous decade á la Shark Toys, Ex-Cult and Tyvek. So, nothing too new or groundbreaking going on here but plenty of demented fun to be had anyway whith this collection of thoroughly competent and well-crafted garage tunes.
The successor to last year's kickass second EP of this Cincinnati, Ohio group makes no attempt at fixing what ain't broken and instead delivers four new blows of that very same awesomness incorporating elements of noise rock, post-, garage- and synth punk with various bits and pieces reminding me of the likes of Busted Head Racket, Brandy, R.Clown, ISS, Spyroids and Knowso, De()t, Toy Brigade or Nervous Tick and the Zipper Lips.
Five insanely pleasing new bursts of straightforward garage punk from yet another belgian group exquisitely executing a no-frills basic strategy that combines traits of a bunch of other european acts (think of the likes of Itches, Mitraille, Dadar and Shitty Life) with a hint of nested grooves á la early Uranium Club, Dumb and Reality Group on one hand, counterbalenced by some shit reminiscent of groups located on the rougher ends of the garage punk spectrum like Easers, Crisis Man, Cruelster or Curleys.
New Jersey garage freak Reckless Randy first came into my sight with 2022's neat self-titled debut LP and has since then released another strong EP. On this new (mini-)LP he once again ups the game considerably for what is hands down his most fully realized record to date as is best exemplified by the couple of tracks already known from previous releases, being given a thorough makeover and adding lots of punch on this one. An invigorating caffeine boost of super catchy garage- and synth punk alternating somewhere inbetween the sonics of the classic The Spits school, Die TV (who previously also played the drums on Randy's records, it appears), Sick Thoughts, Buck Bilixi and Kid Chrome.
What's there left to say about, like, the only german-language band that matters right now pretty much? The guilty conscience of german DIY punk has released yet another batch of excellent and excentric new tracks in their one-of-a-kind fusion of equally pissed and quirky post-, garage- and synth punk, unceremoniously dumped on Bandcamp as has always kinda been their modus operandi, but also slated for a vinyl release via Phantom Records pretty fucking soon™.
Since last year's already perfectly enjoyable self-titled EP, this L.A. group or project has definitely consolidated and streamlined their operation into a decidedly more impactful, concentrated attack of electrified punk inbetween the parameters of garage-, hardcore- and eggpunk that feels to me like a weird frankenstein bastard fusing together the relentless forces of, say, Arse and 2 Stroke, the noisy fuzz-/garage punk of S.B.F. and whatever weirdness that Zhoop/Djinn/Brundle/RONi etc. guy is up to right now.
Having already tasted some of their new LP in the form of a perfect teaser EP a couple weeks ago, we finally get to hear the full debut LP by the dungeon punk wizards of Karlsruhe, Germany and oh boy, we're in for a fucking treat that combines a couple of new recordings of tunes already heard on their 2023 demo with plenty of equally strong new material into a breathless thrill ride that's further helped along by a perfectly fitting and outright filthy lo-to-mid-fi production that sounds as if the whole thing had been recorded in some fucking parking garage. There's tons of sparkly psychedelia to the garage rock of the opening track Locket, a primitive proto punk punch and simplicity in Tear it Up while tracks such as As Loud As Me and My Dawn lighten things up with unexpected flashes of melodicism, the latter of the two having a distinct vibe of early The Men to itself. Contrast to that the hardcore-meets-motörpunk attacks of Give Me Beat and All This Heat, the oldschool Sabbath leftovers fused with the space rock abandon of late Destruction Unit in Supression, which is simultaneously being embedded into some vague post punk context á la Nag. The dungeon punk hymn Fomo Boy remains every bit a destructive force as we've already gleaned from the demo and the new track Inte Mer Hem following that one has much of the same momentum and qualities. Fuck me, this thing slaps.
There are those kinds of bands lacking a rigid quality control and those that don't, wisely leaving the lesser takes on the cutting room floor. And then there's that rare third kind that's seemingly not in need of any amount of quality control 'cos pretty much anything they create seems to turn into instant gold. This new collection of unreleased shit that accumulated in the trash bin of formerly Orlando-, now apparently Portland-based garage-/synth-/eggpunk institution Cherry Cheeks makes a thorougly convincing case for them belonging into that latter category as even the scraps, odds and ends they came up with so far are the kind of material other groups should be jealous for really, making for an admittedly weirder, more cluttered and fragmented but by no means less thrilling and energizing listening experience!
