No unpleasant surprises here, the newest EP of West Palm Beach, Florida group Rude Television is yet another high caliber projectile of catchy, egg-ish garage punk excellence and highly recommended for friends similar shit á la Gee Tee, Erik Nervous, Set-Top Box, Satanic Togas, Power Pants or Tommy Cossack & The Degenerators. Hell, that closing track Rat Bastard may well come to be regarded among the genre’s all-time greats in retrospect.
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Hyperdog have already been on my radar thanks to a neat debut LP and two not at all lousy demos, though the austrian group’s formula has never clicked into place as nicely as on their newest extended play cassette via Goodbye Boozy Records. This is is fuzzy garage punk with at times uncharacteristically relaxed tempos and a glittering psychedelic surface that reminds me a lot of Beta Máximo’s sparkling noise pop color splashes.
Don’t let the kinda standard surf rock intro fool you ‘cos what it leads into is actually a lot more exciting: Two effortlessly shredding garage punk tunes with a bit of a ’77 vibe to them, filled with catchy hooks on the inside and projecting sparkling melodic textures outward, all in all reminding me a bit of early Vaguess or that kickass Wild Rose demo from 2017.
I liked what i heard earlier this year on a neat split EP this Providence, Rhode Island duo (?) did with, well… themselves mostly, under the Cindy alias. This new two-track single has more of that same goodness, opening with a perfectly competent Nerves cover and concluding with an original tune carrying some catchy vibes not entirely dissimilar to the likes of R.M.F.C., Billiam, Gonk, Shrudd, Music for Microwaves or Liquid Lunch.
Although i still haven’t dared yet to venture deeper into the kinda intimidating back catalog of Totowa, New Jersey act Monda, they have already made a lasting impression as a shapeshifting, restless creative force in constant flux over the course of this year. While this spring’s Stiff Jumbo spazzed out gloriously and let its freak flag fly in short bursts of melodic noise and then, sumer’s VIII saw them calm down and relax a bit, for large portions of their newest LP’s I’d now say they’re spacing out and i mean that in the most flattering sense. This is a fuzzy bundle of DIY space-/acid punk eccentricities that just can’t hide the creative drive, human warmth, sense of wonder and curiosity behind its, admittedly, pretty fucking stoned appearance, on one hand reminding me a bit of groups like recent Mononegatives, late-era Useless Eaters, Pow! and some of the more motorik minded incarnations of The(e) O(h)Sees while other songs like I Alwys Have It Till I Need It, Chronic Embarrassment and Creek Time inhabit those same anthemic oldschool indie rock and fuzz punk qualities that made the aforementioned records so special.
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This long-running, slow-moving dutch group, which i’ve previously been blissfully ignoring, catapults itself all the more impressively onto my radar with their third and hands down most accomplished LP so far which pours some top-notch songwriting abilities into a quite adaptable sonic pastiche oscillating between oldschool, sometimes psych-leaning garage- and fuzz punk, buzzsaw noise- and power pop as well as a couple of pulsing electro punk bursts. Exactly twice they stumble in my view though, by veering too heavily into kinda sugary oh-so-fucking-twee ASMR territory but hey, ten out of 12 Songs is still quite a good hit ratio and in some of the best moments, they strike me as an alternate reality garage-y version of eighties Fastbacks.
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Astoria, Oregon group The Dumpies have been around for a bit already and have been a thoroughly lovable force ever since, yet their recent split EP with Night Court (of which most songs are also included here) signaled a huge leap forward in terms of energy, stylistic diversity and songwriting potency – a promise they certainly make good on with this incredible new LP, cycling through endless iterations of power pop-infused (garage-)punk, melancholy indie rockers and also numerous attacks of straight-up hardcore punk in a single impressive burst of uncontainable creativity, crude humor and eccentricity. There’s not a trace of filler to be found on this record. Every song hits home without fail.
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Somehow the kids appear to be into shoegaze again in recent years, yet there hasn’t been all that much in the recent wave that i could really get excited about as most contemporary acts seem perfectly content with creating a pleasant but completely interchangeable bed of light ambient noise to fall asleep in, while lacking the tunes and noise, the punk propulsion and energy of previous generations. A completely different beast though is this second EP of Philadelphia group Mopar Stars, reviving in particular the spirit of the likes of Swervedriver, Pale Saints and early Catherine Wheel while also extending their sonic palette with flourishes of elegant, classic late seventies / early eighties power pop songwriting excellence and not least i’m positively reminded a lot of the early, late-eighties works of UK noise pop act Mega City Four.
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More brainfuck and brain fog than brainwash, this kinda baffling new EP by italian gentleman Leonardo Carlacchiani aka Purp, an immersive flood of Lo-Fi DIY noise and psychedelia hellbent of clouding and overwhelming, rather than breaking, your headspace. The opener Mind Space comes across like the anthemic folk-y power pop of Vaguess being transplanted into the blown-out fuzz pop context of fellow italians Mustard/Metal Guru or of Dadgad’s most recent EP, then morphing towards a more relaxed midtempo indie rocker reminiscent of Treehouse or early Tape/Off in Labyrinthorama. Reminder Demons With Gufo Mangia Sale is pure psyched-out space blues abandon. Astral Angel sounds a bit like early Pixies slowed down to a depressing crawl with a distinct taste of ’90s Chokebore. Ladybug’s Ballata With Bobby Chombo pulls a kind of No-Fi My Bloody Valentine and Dinosaur Jr. pastiche through a psychedelic Flying Saucer Attack meatgrinder, followed by I-Ching sorta bridging the gap between early Japandroids and late 2000s / early 2010s noise-/fuzz pop shredders á la No Age, Wavves and Male Bonding.
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Their shit just keeps getting better all the time! Following a very recent EP that showed some considerable growth especially in terms of songwriting, this new one of spain’s chief purveyors of catchy egg-ish noise pop and garage punk pulls that same trick off flawlessly once again, with the first three tracks delivering their trademark melodic dopamine flashes in the most forceful manner we’ve heard of them yet. The melancholy middle track Vuelan Buitres then initiates a slight change of pace with the remainder of these songs going in a somewhat lighter and more playful, yet no less enchanting, direction.
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