This Montreal group's spectacular debut EP pulls off a pretty neat trick and does so flawlessly and at exactly the right time in our collective cultural consciousness. Ultra-catchy punk rock kinda bridging the gap between classic eighties acts like mid-career Hüsker Dü, Dinosaur Jr., Dag Nasty, Embrace or the later works of Naked Raygun and Government Issue on one hand; previous-decade noisy punk and indie rock groups á la earky Milk Music, Kicking Spit, California X, Milked and Happy Diving on the other, gets blended here with flourishes of decidedly '80s-sounding heavy metal shredding and solo-ing which, in tandem with the heavily dungeon-themed artwork, is sure gonna strike a chord with friends of Steröid or Poison Ruïn, with this shit at times coming across a bit like a catchier, immediably approachable spin on the latter group's work so far.
Portland's Yacht Fire absolutely killed it with last year's self-titled debut EP of cool-as-fuck DIY fuzzed-out garage punk that alternated between quite catchy and utterly abrasive tunes. The successor now transports the same awesomeness while slightly expanding on the folk-ish vibes already subtly present on the first EP, now taking center stage most notably in Run and Kiss Off, while Nod and Cigarettes are punchy no-frills bursts of simple and effective fuzz punk mayhem and the closing tune Werewolf keeps hitting hard too with a bit of a Wipers-meet-Dead Moon vibe. This is yet another all-killer record by a band you should absolutely keep a eye on!
Toronto group Eye Ball had made myself - and probably everyone else listening - hungry for more of their shit with their two digital 2-track singles last year, which then got compiled into a four-track tape pretty soon after that. Now we get their first full LP worth of material and the previous comparisons to the likes of Marked Men, Radioactivity, Sonic Avenues and maybe early Sweet Reaper still hold mostly true, but there's so much more going on here too with most of these tunes having a lot more grit and a rougher edge to them, a more determined attack. Don't worry, there's still plenty of hooks and melodies to go around and the thing is packed with hits, but you know something's cooking when right out of the gate the album greets us with a pretty hardcore-ish title tune and subsequently, sometimes seems to channel the the vigorous thrust of previous-decade garage punk acts like Sauna Youth and early Tyvek. The one-two punch consisting of Road Pig and Bruise for a Birthmark almost has a bit of a Cruelster-esque energy and of even more recent stuff, these sogs had me thinking of The Dumpies a lot. Quality shit, no doubt!
Three incredible tracks dumped on bandcamp over the course of the past one-and-a-half years made us hungry for more tunes of this Melbourne group and i'm pleased to say that this new probably-not-quite-an-LP's worth material (including the aforementioned singles) fulfills all of the pretty high expectations. What Steröid do to eighties Metal, this group pulls off with regards to '70s hard-, southern rock, a couple of other dad rock-ish vibes and transforms it into an only slightly egg-ish, maximally fuzzed-out aesthetic of ultra-catchy garage punk and power pop with an unusual knack for infectious guitar leads - a glorious non-stop barrage of captivating riffs, resilient hooks and stubborn earworms, in an unlikely way combining some of the traits of, say, Sheer Mag's early EPs and more recent shit by Satanic Togas.
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.
That Evinspragg record has garnered the most publicity of the newest Inscrutable Records batch for several reasons, some of them justifiable, others more annoyingly drama-related. But to be perfectly honest, that one is a bit too ambitious for its own good in my humble opinion and a bit of a mixed bag which starts out incredibly strong, then kinda fizzles out towards the end and i actually feel much more drawn towards the label's other two releases among which is this full-length debut by Johnny Skin. On it, they create a dreamy, melancholy and super-catchy melange blending the yearning vibe of '50s-'60s bubblegum pop ballads with rudimetary, minimalist lo-fi vintage electronic drum beats and synths in a fashion that's gonna draw inevitable comparisons to Suicide and Métal Urbain, interspersed with a bunch of more noisy and dissonant no wave-ish tunes more in the vein of noisy synth punk pioneers á la Primitive Calculators or Nervous Gender and the experimental, psychedelic sounds of Theoretical Girls, Chrome or MX-80.
I somehow skipped over the previous Monda LP here so i take this newest EP as an opportunity to remind you that this Totowa, New Jersey dude is still around and doing cool shit all along the way, with his newest one being the most catchy and straightforward release in a while, consisting of five undeniable earworms between the rough coordinates of oldschool indie rock, garage punk and power pop that more often than not radiates a melancholy, dreamy atmosphere. High quality shit as usual, this time around reminding me quite a bit of Cincinnati power pop overlords Vacation.
The newest release on the consistently brilliant Total Punk sublabel Mind Meld is yet another stunning achievement from the outer fringes of the garage punk-related universe created by a Sydney group featuring members of Shrapnel, Gee Tee and Satanic Togas among their ranks, although of these, Shrapnel are the obvious comparison for these elegant and accomplished compositions of timeless, jangly-ass power pop and art rock with vague and fleeting echoes of The Soft Boys, The Bevis Frond and Television among many others, in addition to a diverse cluster more recent shit by the likes of Treehouse, Honey Radar, Good Flying Birds, Kitchen's Floor, Chronophage or Violent Change.
The artwork appears to not very subtly hint at a dungeon-related thing and this almost sounds plausible with the riff-heavy opening track, though after that, the spanish group's newest EP settles into that familiar sound of dreamy, egg-ish noise pop and synthpunk we all know and love them for, albeit with a few unexpected nuances like the aformentioned opening, occasional emo-ish sprinkles, some hints at straightforward, classic indie rock and moments channeling some C86-by-way-of-early shoegaze kind of aesthetic in El Valle De La Muerte and the closing track Sesos En Bandeja.
On their, like, hundredth release in just about three short years, this Minessota group has crafted an enchanting sonic landscape of timeless cool, combining elements of relaxed and strummy, insanely catchy indie rock and noise pop with just a tiny hint of shoegaze and Sarah Records-esque oldschool indie pop to insanely appealing results, which at times come across like a mix of the more power pop-ish ends of the Bevis Frond Spectrum, Flying Saucer Attack, LoFi-era Guided By Voices and a smidge of Eric's Trip, Sebadoh and Archers Of Loaf maybe? Also there's some quality akin to the more psychedelic side of eighties Flying Nun Records á la The Clean and The Stones. Moving on to increasingly more recent references, you may also sense lots of kinship to the densely foggy sonics of early Rat Columns or The Molds, the dreamy indie rock of Treehouse, the early works of Male Bonding, Wavves or, most recently, the Lo-Fi haze of Italy's Purp and the catchy-as-fuck indie rock / noise pop hymns of Vacation.
