It's been a couple years since the last EP of this Los Angeles group and clearly their craft has evolved a lot since then as evidenced by ther new debut longplayer on Under The Gun Records, whose somewhat metal-infused hard- and postcore-ish vibes may sound a tiny bit brutal, clinical and jarring to those who fell in love with their previous sound of KBD-heavy, synth-extended garage punk tunes that just happened to sometimes venture into hardcore territory. Heck, there's almost some classic speed metal vibe in the one-minute opener For Now. Thankfully that ain't the sole defining trait of this record and the tightened screws here work in unison with plenty of smarts and interlocking nuance to save the punishing first half of the record from just devolving into a featureless tedious barrage. It's the second half when this record truly opens up though, its tunes letting a lot more humanity and melancholia seep through the cracks, incorporating unexpected elements of psychedelia in the midtempo post punk stomper Gridliock/Flatline for example. The post punk-ish vibes persist through Come Down, before the following uptempo tunes too maintain a comparatively catchy quality as if to balance-out the ultra-grim opening stretch. By all accounts this is a way less friendly, instantly fun or accessible record than what we've heard from the band in the past but it's also no less of a thoroughly rewarding listen if you're gonna stick with it.
Whippets are a Madison, Wisconsin group featuring Bobby Hussy and Typer Spatz known from both Wristwatch and The Hussy among other things. Now while i'm all over that last Wristwatch LP i've always had a harder time warming up to much of the previous Whippets output with especially their 2024 debut LP just treading too heavily on a too well-trodden post grunge path for my taste. This new one i get a lot more out of, even though there are still some isolated instances of undercooked song construction like in Dream Of Two, where the dudes just rely too heavy on a nothingness of two not particularly thrilling, pretty basic musical phrases. There are way more hits than misses on this record though, which kinda strikes me as sort of a Wristwatch offshoot steering that band's garage punk leanings closer towards a more ambitious mid-90s to early 2000s indie- and alt rock aesthetic that just happens to test my '90s kid patience when it sometimes just feels a bit too heavy-handed in its mid-tempo earnestness or the song substance just ain't quite up to snuff to make that shit stick. This is by no means a flawless record but whenever it actually achieves liftoff, it soars to impressive heights.
Guess what, it's another eggpunk record and it's one i can totally get behind and boy, have these Cleveland, Ohio folks gained steam and tightened up their performance since the still a bit too loose sounding Digital Distortion EP. And it's more than that though. While that record still kinda struggled differentiating them from the flood of Snooper acolytes, they're really growing into their own here by just embracing the weirdness and frantic energy like, i mean... fuck, Can't Stop may be the first song called Can't Stop in a long while that actully sounds like they can't stop, at least until it does stop quite early and suddenly. Truth in advetising rules supreme here with (I Just Wanna) Be a Ramone being kind of a Ramones tune, Salsa being some twisted kind of salsa-ish thing, Uptight sounding like the most uptight thing on the record indeed. It's just tons of exciting fun all the way through and they save the best thing for last in the form of the epic seven-minute closing tune The Nuclear Option, which seems to draw heavy inspiration from early Uranium Club and Australia's perpetually underappreciated garage punk underdog overlords Electric Prawns 2 rather than from the most ubiquitous suspects of contemporary eggpunk. Good call!
Now here's a true mystery band for ya that may well originate from earth's inner core or from Saturn's rings or Bavaria or the nth circle of hell, or maybe i'm just imagining the whole thing i don't know what the fuck is going on here. But in case that shit's actually real, i'll try to describe it as the sort of at best tangentially egg-infused, spaced-out psych punk of the most out-there and deraged breed, the kind you'd imagine being blown through the raptured speaker cone of some ancient haunted AM radio coming alive and blaring away each night in an abandoned shopping mall or hospital building or whatever. Quite appropriately, these broadcasts themselves are about as impenetrable as any old numbers station dispatch, probably unrivaled in the 12XU class of '26 in terms of sheer unsettling disorientation as these tunes appear intentionally set-up to catastrophically fail at any moment in unpredictable ways but rather miraculously, the fragile structures holding things in place here, as much as they keep swaying and creaking incessantly, never quite collapse, but rather even expose a good deal of quite catchy garage hooks under their deep layers of grime and fuzz. Though not completely unheard of in our spheres - i'll say Psychal have a number of spiritual peers in the likes of Zoids, Silicon Heartbeat, Corpus Earthling, Mateo Manic or Thee Hearses for example - you've rarely encountered a specimen of this kind going quite as far in its boundless excess of acid rock depravity.
One of hard-/postcore's most incorruptible acts of recent years returns with yet another kickass record that doesn't sound like much else these days, apparently still not feeling any urge to significantly polish up their sound which of course doesn't mean there hasn't been tons of growth and refinement to their music along the way, which more than ever feels like a comprehensive round-trip through a decent stretch of the more out-there and weird fringes of artsy early eighties punk and hardcore history. This shit is just about the roughest-sounding material these Olympia, Washington based folks have done in a while, yet there's always a strikingly purpusefully crafted quality to their sonic chaos, the kind only a group as wildly superior and creative as Fugitive Bubble can pull off so consistently and effortlessly.
This thing popped up on the re-branded former Pigeon Bandcamp so Tense may be the exact same folks or they may not, but that's just the usual murkiness we've long gotten used to from the notoriously anonymous Berlin post punk arena, always keeping a low profile. It they're the same though, their sound has surely gone through a bit of a transmutation and strikes me as the most focused and uncompromising it's ever been. Though still pretty much textbook Berlin school post punk in many ways, this shit is setting itself apart nonetheless with levels of doom and anxiety truly goin' through the roof here, feeling kinda alarming even in light of most other things coming from that neck of the woods - the most deliberate blow we've heard from there for a good while, delivered with ice cold precision and unforgiving rotational momentum, its hyper-economical not-a-note-wasted procedure making sure all the pain point gets struck without fail while having me bobbing along in pure ecstatic bliss all the same.
So let me try to get this right. It appears this new-ish Soft Shoulder LP ain't so much a compilation of stuff released on various lathe-cut EPs and -singles over the past couple years rather than a collection of songs recorded years ago that deliberately first got put out in that piecemeal way starting in 2022, but was intended from day one to eventually make up a full LP, which we now have in front of us. Phew, that sure is some kind of clunky roundabout way of doing things and i'll say it's just fitting for one of the most intentionally clunky, roundabout types of bands of our time, one that's been around way longer than this blog, is probably gonna outlast it too and has never failed to amaze with their cluttered and messy, though also totally unmistakable, singular vision of vagely The Fall-inspired, No Wave-informed post punk and noise rock. And you know what? I think it's the greatest thing the (in its current incarnation) one-man-band from Tempe, Arizona has ever done even after the knockout double whammy of 2023s Smile Building's Exit and It’s A Small World After LPs, as i'll say these new old tunes hit even harder in their collected, re-sequenced new form - so much creativity and brilliance concentrated into a dense 21-song 45-minute record that refuses to get tedious for even a second and the added punch and clarity of a stellar new mastering job also sure contributes a good bit to making this thing gel together and rise way above just the sum of its parts.
Holy fuck how the hell did i miss this Vienna group's debut record when it first came out in April? This is for sure nothing less than one of the standout releases of this year on the more oldschool end of the post punk spectrum with a sound feeling like a welcome throwback to the simpler days of the genre's 2010s resurgence with more than just a fleeting glimpse of bands á la Rank/Xerox, Negative Space, earlier works of Institute or The Estranged, maybe a hint of Nervosas even or the very first Diät single? There's also a healthy pulsing garage punk edge to this shit in tunes like Collecting Dust, as well as a neat topping of Wipers-Esque guitar work. This is exactly the kind of stripped-down no-frills direct-impact energy i would sure appreciate more of in this day and age.
Austin, Texas group Guiding Light already had a pretty exciting, if still kinda messy debut EP out via Stucco / Down South Tapes in 2024, who are now also responsible for the cassette release of their first full length record (viny is availablel via Post Present Medium), on which they up their game in pretty much every aspect of their sound as the the folk-ish strummy melancholia of Shackled By Lust makes immediately clear and even though that tune ain't fully representative of the rest of the album, it keeps on resonating as a thoroughly impressive opening salvo nonetheless. That greatness persists all throughout the record where their folk- and cowpunk-adjacent strummery somewhere inbetween the likes of Angst and Volcano Suns keeps colliding with eighties Post Punk right between the chairs of, say, Burma, Saccharine Trust, Man Sized Action and early Minutemen, though spiked with occasional bits of Flying Nun Post Punk Psychedelia, catchy Jangle Pop guitar leads and -harmonies, though if instead you feel like naming more recent Folk-/Cowpunk/Post Punk hybrids á la Leche, Cardi O., more recent Rolex or Optic Nerve, i'm gonna say you're right on the money too. Can't miss this one if you're into any of that shit.
After an already quite thrilling demo tape in 2023, the group from Oslo, Norway finally makes good on the promise and impresses with their fully realized vision three years later on their first longplayer, wildly elaborating on their eclectic sound that incorporates such things as a bit of the frantic and anxious early Iceage energy unravelling here, a touch of early Poison Ruïn high-stakes dungeon punk drama, coupled with a momentum somewhat reminiscent of Stay Home-Era Hank Woods & The Hammerheads and there's also plenty reference to be found of another New York Band Hank Wood has been in, the existential psychedelic cowpunk nightmarescapes of Murderer. Further i'm reminded of that unpredictable recent Forcer LP, the epic frankenstein song constructs of the 2020 Tom Lincoln solo album und its sort-of full band incarnation / successor Metho, whose line-up including the great Jackson Reid Briggs then again leads me to the realization that tunes like Trollmandens lærling also have quite a bit of a Split System energy to them. So yeah, what this band is pulling off here covers a lot of ground and whatever these dudes touch seems to turn into pure gold instantly, while the more garage-like mid-fi production values of the previous EP give way to a more hard- and postcore-infused vibe with slightly metal-infused overtones on this, matched up with just the right kind of vicious, unrelenting performance here to make that shit stick. This record is a wildly creative grab bag brimming with pure wonder and breathless ecstasy.
