Last Year's Epoxy River and Super Pool LP by this Evesham, New Jersey (presumably one-man-) group was already such a massive leap in quality for them and yet again, they manage to considerably refine their sound on this newest LP, on which they kinda leave behind the late-2000s fuzz punk and noise pop ingredients that dominated that record and lean even more into the oldschool '80s and '90s college- and indie rock-informed sounds ranging from classic Dinosaur Jr. and Sebadoh, Bitch Magnet and early Seam to the likes of Superchunk and Polvo, with just a subtle hint of first and second wave emo thrown in for good measure but also increasing amounts of '80s hardcore-based proto-noise rockers like Flipper, Big Black, Drunks With Guns and No Trend, especially in the final stretch of the record. There's an unpredictable quality and an explosive, uncontainable energy to these tunes, radiating the pure untamed joy of blasting a euphoric and abrasive, larger-than-life and kinda anachronistic type of melodic noise out of your gear that feels pleasantly out-of-place in this era, all of it further thrown deliciously off-balance by the ear-piercing screams that prove this dude still ain't ready to half-ass anything here.
Wow, a new Eye Ball EP running over four minutes... that feels totally epic after their previous Of The Northern Americas EP spat three songs at us in just under a minute. Anyway, these four tunes have all the unpredictable, chaotic brilliance you've come to love about this group, combining an unwavering knack for catchy, melodic tunes with a fuzzed-out lo-fi sound that just seems tailor-made for their brief fuzz pop song explosions.
The third EP of this Montreal group is yet another irresistible candy seemingly inspired by the more melodic strains of eighties punk somewhere inbetween, say, Fastbacks, late-era Naked Raygun and Hüsker Dü, but also previous-decade revivalist indie punk rockers like Milk Music, California X, Milked and Kicking Spit ain't too far off either. This time they keep us waiting a bit - until the very last track to be precise - before they fully lean into their trademark heavy metal shredding which has also been the secret ingredient of their brilliant previous EP, but that shall in no way distract from the bucketloads of catchy joy we had along the way leading up to that point too!
Zulo of Rosario, Argentinia have already accumulated a respectable number of LPs and EPs with a varying sound inbetween the parameters of fuzzed-out psychedelic garage punk, noise- and power pop, but never before have their tunes been as consistently awesome as on this new LP on which they lean in on their more spaced-out tendencies, a psychedelic haze enveloping an impeccable batch of super catchy new tunes that at some points may resemble an oldschool Telescopes, Spacemen 3 or Flying Saucer Attack vibe as much as somewhat more recent shit á la Honey Radar, Far Corners, Germ House or Violent Change.
Now this Brooklyn group kicks up an excellent fuss on what appears to be their second EP so far, churning out eight concise and catchy eruptions of fuzz-heavy garage- and old-fashioned DIY punk that evokes quite a bit of an early 2010s feel reminiscent of Tyvek, Parquet Court or maybe a quite Lo-Fi, rustic incarnation of Wimps, though you could just as well draw comparisons to oldschool KBD-adjacent Acts like The Endtables or The Mentally Ill. There's an undeniable Desperate Bicycles energy to it aswell and when it comes to more recent shit, i'm sure enjoyers of that fairly recent Winston Hytwrs Perfect Harmony EP might get a kick out of this one too.
Sex Mex have been a constant for the past couple years as my go-to act for straight-ahead fuzzy and melodic no-frills garage punk that doesn't evolve much beyond its time-tested formula but so far hasn't ever disappointed either, always kept afloat by the quality of the song material and this newest EP is without doubt among the strongest sets of new tunes they've let loose so far, another no-frills treat of synth-enhanced, euphoric garage pop to lift the spirits when we desperately need it.
A ridiculously impressive debut LP from this Tokyo-based group that unleashes a perfect storm of melodic but equally prouplsive noise pop and garage punk with an unpredictable, freewheeling creative energy at its core with no two songs sounding quite alike but everything feels as if made of one piece nonetheless, cycling through nine iterations of catchy noise that kinda alternates between the more straightforward sonic spaces of, say, Dark Thoughts, Sonic Avenues, Bad Sports or early Terry Malts on one hand and the way more incalculable and freakish bursts of melodic ruckus most recently heard from Eye Ball and The Dumpies on the other side of that equation.
Just a couple weeks after their debut, the second EP of the Beta Máximo dude's new synth punk project simply picks up the strands right where they left them on the predecessor, yet there's also some neat experimentation and surprise to be found in there which we haven't heard before like the airy synth polyrhythms in the verses of El Fin De Los Días showing SYT at their most aloof so far but also rewarding the patience by segueing into some of their most catchy moments in the chorus.
Right away the debut EP of this group based in Eugene, Oregon radiates a vibe reminding me of a number of short-lived noisy and melodic punk groups from the early 2010s like Milk Music, Fins and Dharma Dogs as well as the fairly recent bands Jolana Star and Psychic Dogs who seem determined to revive that timeless sound of borderline post punk-ish catchy punk tunes paying tribute to the eighties Homestead, SST Records and Touch & Go eras. So now you can add Liquid Cross to that list but also, there's a notable hint of early-days Protomartyr present here, most notably their second and third LPs, in no small part due to the singer's voice channeling a weary and melancholic quality quite similar to Protomartyr's Joe Casey.
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.
