Best Of Pop Punk: installment the second

jfc I am high as fuck right now
It's been a few days since I took the D heh you know heh heh but no ok hold on
It's been a few days since I took my vitamin D supplement and ha ha oh wow great job sick self care a+ would follow up trauma with neglect again 100/100. To make up for lost time, I just trepanned myself and smooshed 15000 IU between the hemispheres of my brain. It seems to be working, though, because I instantaneously became manic and capable of punching the unpunchable. Blog blog fight the PTSD.

I'm sorry let's move on

I initially planned on making this a three part thing, but honestly, I don't feel like resizing and underscoring 10 different C&Ps right now.

5 it is.

20.) Apocalypse Hoboken - Easy Instructions For Complex Machinery LP (1996)

So before I say this, I'd like to aknowledge that I am but a blip in a vast universe, and regarding media, I've consumed maybe .1%. There're tons of unsung acts out there that desperately need recognition, and the likelihood that I have heard them - while much more likely in the information age - is low. Qualifier aside, hyperbole to the front: Apocalypse Hoboken is one of thee most underrated/underappreciated bands I can think of. Over their modest discography, they present so many great ideas, so little regard for convention, and most importantly, so many fucking great songs. It baffles me these guys are not more celebrated nowadays - their catalog is incredible. This album is their 2nd, and while I could've easily put House Of The Rising Son Of A Bitch here instead, it's an ideal starting point. It's not your typical 3-chord pop punk, it's something much more loose and open ended, with smartass parodic lyrics in sort of a 90's Fat Wreck vein.

Check out "Be Alright", "Dean Is A Punk", and "Smoker's Cough"

Other recommendations: Jerk Lessons EP (1994), Date Rape Nation EP (1994), House Of The Rising Son Of A Bitch LP (1998)

19.) The Menzingers - On The Impossible Past LP (2012)

This one's kinda hard to measure erm, "objectively", since it's such a sentimental favorite, but well, it's an inherently sentimental album. I mean, look at the title. Lyrically this is an exploration of the two songwriter's pasts, with a vague sense of continuity from Greg, and slightly less so from Tom. Fortunately, if you're into storytelling, this is a Greg-heavy LP, which is also fortunate 'cause he's a much better songwriter, unleashing tons of alt-rocky/pop punk gems with beautiful melodies and huge choruses. Just listen to that riff in "Casey" that anchors the song, changing slightly midway to make it even better. There are couple weaker tracks on here ("Ava House" blows), but it's such a great piece altogether it hardly dilutes the impact. It was a pretty huge change of pace for the band, so if you wanna explore them further, maybe go forward first, then backwards.

Check out "Gates", "Casey", and "Mexican Guitars"

Other recommendations: On The Impossible Past Acoustic demo (2012), Rented World LP (2014), After The Party LP (2017)

18.) Joyce Manor - Never Hungover Again LP (2014)

I was sorta conflicted over picking this LP over their self-titled, but ultimately, this is one I never get sick of. I first heard Joyce Manor opening for AJJ and The World Is... back in 2011, and I was blown away. My weakness, as touched on in the Martha review above, is pop-punk that sticks roughly to traditional sounds, but with a strong 'x-factor'. In Joyce Manor's case, it's the band's internal dynamics: the combination of Kurt's heavy handed, busy percussion, Barry's charismatic, desperate voice, and their penchant for keeping things 'Guided By Voices concise'. This album isn't as frantic and 'punk' as their first, or as weird and aNyThInG gOeS as their second, but something new and refined while amplifying all their strengths.
Check out the sick guitar interplay in "The Jerk", the heartsmushing "Christmas Card", and build-up anthem "Schley"

Other recommendations: It's all good, really. Everything they've done is worth hearing, but here: Constant Headache EP (2010), Joyce Manor LP (2011), Of All Things I Will Soon Grow Tired LP (2012)

17.) Murmurs - Fly With The Unkindness LP (2012)

Kicking off with one of the most subtly bleak choruses I've ever heard, in which one vocalist quantifies that, realistically, he only has another 35 years before he'll (statistically) kick the bucket, this is not your standard pop punk album. From there's a dark, churning block - that could be metaphorical, but I doubt it - about coming across a friend's suicide, some IV drug use references, and closes with the best 'I'll miss you' anthem possible. It's pretty heavy handed, and unlike Off With Their Heads, a real instrumental darkness looms throughout, though it never topples the high energy catharsis with dismal grit. I hope so bad these guys play again. Their second album is much different, and took me a year to really 'get', but it's equally worth tracking down, even though it falls further outside of the pop-punk descriptor.
Check out "35 Summers Left", "Rookery", and "Snow Angels"

Other recommendations: Bound LP (2014)

16.) Good Luck - Into Lake Griffy LP (2008)

Here's a pretty great example of why the Sniffin' Glues ethos of "here are 3 chords, now form a band" falls flat after 3 decades. Like sure, it's not like you have to be fucking Lagwagon to write punk songs, but think of all the notable hardcore bands from the 80's. With the exception of Minor Threat's early stuff, pretty much every band of note were not just fumbling through A D E A A A A E shit, but were pretty seriously talented. Okay, end intro. Good Luck are all exceptionally skilled, is what I'm saying. Enough so that they basically reinvent pop-punk here without ever straying off too much. Don't let the Plan It X associations scare you off - this is nothing like the rest of the stable. Every single song here is great, featuring: multi-vocal interplay, tons of clever hooks and melodies you haven't heard a thousand times, wonderful lyrics, and SHREDDING, MOTHERFUCKER. But melodic and unlike jerking off with a lube made of arpeggios and shit.
Check out "Come Home", "Hey Matt", and "1001 Open Hands"

Other recommendations: Without Hesitation LP (2011)

Desultory's "Tears" and how life is bad

It looks like I finally learned how embedding works. Sure, I'll miss the inappropriate stand-ins for actual content - we all will - and of course the skinny teenage play-alongs, but this is a bright new dawn, and here's a video without a torso holding a chapman stick:

When I was a teenager I was sorta bullied out of liking stuff I actually liked. See, I wasn't always the archivist sleeping pill we enjoy today, chatting up the honeys about 4MenWithBeards reissues and near-mint acetates. I sorta hated music. I mean, not aggressively - I wasn't burning 2 Live Crew albums with my church group - I just felt incapable of enjoying it. 

When I found myself in Catholic school in 2002, my peers were baffled by this disengagement.

Peer: What kinda stuff do you listen to?
Me: uh
Peer: Do you have a favorite band?

Me: I like the song "Clint Eastwood" and that band that did the soundtrack to Fooly Cooly

Thus spawned a focus group, dedicated to making me a regular person. Sadly, 13 year olds at the turn of the century aren't really calibrated to market trends, so somehow I ended up an asshole who likes Korn. I dunno how old you are, or if this was a thing you paid attention to, but Nu-Metal wasn't exactly fresh in 2003. Sure, I got Slipknot's new album and it was the bee's fucking knees - the charts agreed - but it was all downhill from here. Emo was redefining the youth aesthetic, and elsewhere, Gothenberg-style Metalcore was muscling out the aging chinbraid factions. If you were 15 and wanted "heavy", you went towards screaming dudes who liked Zao and At The Gates, not greasy Lynyrd Skynrd fans who worked at gas stations. 

When I suddenly found myself surrounded by hundreds of public school kids, all worldly and guiltlessly masturbating, it quickly hit me that XXL Mushroomhead tees weren't considered a deft practice. I mustered up as much integrity as possible amidst my new friends, but no individual should have to defend careering-era Disturbed alone. So I caved. Suddenly I was ALL ABOUT FUCKIN' REAL-ASS METAL™. I started with some foreplay classics - Immolation, Cannibal Corpse, Dark Angel, and the like - but before I knew it, I was chained to the wall in a makeshift sex dungeon, bidding on Gut and Meatshits 7"s on Ebay. I mean, sure, I enjoyed that shit okay, but the real benefit was the incoherence of the whole. While Nu-Metal was digestible radio rock, never drawn too far from Grunge Rock and Pantera, the seedy underbelly of tr00 metal was an almost un-critique-able in it's obliqueness. 

Me: *plays Rompeprop's "I Am The Dolphin Sprayhole Fucker"*

Peer: lol wtf this is terrible

Me: kek u just dont get it go listen to some lamb of god, nerd xD

Ultimately I stopped giving a shit, cut off my three foot ponytail, and dedicated my life to stenography for Katie Crutchfield's musical career. Today I put on Desultory for the first time in close to a decade. If you read my last thing on Joyce Manor, this won't surprise you, but I'm not feeling excellent. But you know what they say: when life hands you suicide and homelessness, make lemonade you can sip on while you stave off a panic attack. Also, listen to death metal, even though it's overwhelmingly negative,

Desultory were an early example of Melodic Death Metal, and popped up in Sweden sometime in the late 80's. They have a couple good albums, this one (Into Eternity), and '94's Bitterness, but it's specifically this song I wanna highlight. As I sat on the gazebo steps this morning, embittered by how shitty and rainy this Spring has remained, I contemplated what's next: do I keep looking for another house? Do I hold out for a friend's room? Or do I just scream "eat shit" at all my relationships, burn my possessions in the Whole Foods parking lot and catch the southbound to Tucson? 

Then that riff at 2:03 came on. In a song as contextually appropriate as "Tears", that melodic build suddenly blasted me into a magisterial whimsy, battling wendigos and shit, mournful but PROUD and UNFLINCHING. For the first time in 24 hours, I felt something, and in the most dorky way achievable. "Yeah, the sky's still a bald pallet of hopelessness, but MY WORD the atmosphere of it all!" 

And there in the distance sat the Elysian majesty of a New Seasons cafeteria, where I slipped away to slap a few hundred words down with no clear trajectory. 

THE POINT:
1.) uh

2.) high school is hard

3.) that song is a good song

4.) 

5.) I'll write something better soon

It's a good thing I was bullied into being a sexless "metal maniac" sometimes, buried beneath cascading layers of incomprehensible "otherness" and irony. Because now that my taste is earnest, I'm often surprised by how good a lot of the music I crammed down my throat was.

Best Of Pop Punk: installment the first

The coalescence of 'music nerd' and 'pop-punker' is kind of unheard of. If you go online, it'll take you like 20 seconds to find auditoriums full of armchair historians and beard stroking preservation societies, specializing in everything from hard rock to free jazz to early electronic music and far flung antiquarian bullshit. I hear the world sing it's ambivalence like a Gregorian choir, but unfortunately, a lot of people are born male, and this birth right insures deafness to the pleas of tolerance. Also, insufferable acquiescence of boring information. But not about pop-punk? I mean, I get it - it's like, sad teenager music - but then how do you explain people who edit Metal Archives for a living? It's not exactly a sea of starter homes and 401Ks down there. Here's a fun thing you can try, as I'm trying to make this a more interactive reading experience:
1.) go on ebay for a long time
2.) buy a vtg oop rare xxl Lividity longsleeve
3.) have a salary above 4 figures
But I dunno the people do need to access the release date of Ulcerous Phlegm's International Problem's EP, so excuse my provocateur nature; it's why I'm considered "the George Carlin of comedic insight". Music nerds are another unloved pillar of this wonderful thing we call civilization, and should be celebrated as such. Just like people who assemble cardboard boxes or refurbish Tamagotchis. The point is this: I will be the stone of knowledge that dams the river of ignorance. I am the hero pop-punk deserves, but not the one it needs right now (paraphrase appears c/o Marvel).
But here it is right now anyway:

I initially wrote this long ass list for rateyourmusic like a real winner would but now it's time to pass on the bounty. See, I have very particular taste in art of pop punk, and now you can be privy to this mine of insight. Without further ado, let's "pick it up" lol wait no

30.) Rivethead - Cheap Wine Of Youth EP (2002)

Let's kick this off with a relative obscurity. At their core, Rivethead were another band adept in the Screeching Weasel arts; they were clearly a branch growing out of Ben and co's grove, replete with start-stop hooks and layered vocal interplay. What really set them apart, though, was their lyrics and delivery. The distortion's caked on, the vocals are guttural, and the lyrics are from the perspective of a bunch of train hopping crusties. Every song on here's great, but check out "Past Days" and "48 Double Stack" for a taster.
Oh, and a 48 double stack's a type of intermodal train car with a luxurious porch to hide inside, if that gives you an indication of why I relate. I'm really alternative and interesting.

Other recommendations: City Sound Number Five EP (2001)

29.) Discount - Half Fiction LP (1999)

If it wasn't for the interbutts, I'd have never fucking known that Discount's Alison Mosshart is one and the same as the dull garage neophyte in The Kills. "VV", I think. I mean, I get it - she was like 16 at Discount's conception - but oof, the amount of personality she displayed here's never been rivaled in her present projects. 
This album is flawless. A beautiful mix of joyous melody, sadness, and hooks out the ass. This isn't the amateurish take on old Cometbus bands that Ataxia was, it's much more developed in it's simplicity. It sounds just as fresh as when I first heard it in 2005, and tracks like "Am I Missing Something?", "Stitch", and the amazing "The Usual Bad" are contenders for my personal favorite pop-punk songs ever. 

Other recommendations: Crash Diagnostic (2001), Singles Collection 1 + 2 (2002)

28.) Leatherface - Mush LP (1991)

This is an obvious one, but holy shit is this an amazing album. It's also likely the sole album on here that'd hold appeal for people outside the fandom of pop-punk (or even punk in general), with incredible melodic guitarwork, legitimately gruff vocals, "adult"-leaning lyricism, and incredible songwriting. I feel like it's kinda important to know that the original release is only 12 tracks, with "Dead Industrial Atmosphere" holding the banner of 'best closing song ever' for me, but the tack-ons are great as well (even the "Message In A Bottle" cover!).

"There's still so many things left to see
Little drop in the middle of the big sea of high and mighty things
Your fascination for larger than life your brand new appetite
And there's springtime in my mind and I'd rather be alive
As though we'd invented it and we danced
It could have been the longest time and I'll remember it
You don't know what's in store when we laugh"

Other recommendations: Fill Your Boots (1990), Minx (1993), More Mush (bootleg 2012)

27.) Martha - Courting Strong LP (2014)

This is the kind of band I always look for and never find. On a cursory listen, it came across as cloying and painfully British, but the more chances I gave it, the more it unfolded below the saccharine surface. The songwriting here is way beyond the ken of your typical three chord pop-punk band, with lots of interesting songstructures and "experimentation". I hate using that word, especially in this context, but for me this band hits that perfect level: they never go into the obtuse or weird, keeping a foot firmly planted in the genre, but exude so much confidence and skill that it sounds extremely fresh and new. I haven't heard a pop-punk album this addictive and interesting since I first got into the genre a zillion years ago. Seriously.

Other recommendations: Blisters In The Pit Of My Heart (2016)

26.) Crusades - Perhaps You Deliver This Judgement With Greater Fear Than I Receive It LP (2013)

I fucking love the idea of taking pop-punk into bizarre tangents like this. If you can imagine a combo of the darker, mid-period Samiam songs with Davey Havok sparring off with a hardcore vocalist, then layer it with black metal lyrical concerns and the occasional tremolo riff, that's basically what they sound like. It seems sorta ridiculous in description, but it never feels Frankenstein'd, and this album carries a sort of 'thematic epic' feel bolstered both by the songwriting and lyrical focus on Giordana Bruno's struggles. If you're interested in a unique, dark take on the genre, this album is excellent.

Other recommendations: The Sun Is Down And The Night Is Riding In (2011), This Is A Sickness And Sickness Will End (2017)

25.) American Steel - s/t LP (1997)

I've already written about this album 10 jillion times, so yeah, I'm kinda fried on talking it up. If you want the full rundown on this and the follow up (Rogue's March), looky here.
If not, HEAR THIS: American Steel's debut is a much, much different entity than everything that followed, so much so that they were completely unrecognizable by LP 3. Imagine a hyperspeed, incredibly skilled and hook-ridden mash up of Crimpshrine, Operation Ivy, and Grimple and you've got this album. It's gritty, fast, tight, and packed with super memorable choruses and riffs. Easily the most underrated American Steel LP, and one of the most underrated punk albums, period. Don't let the rare bits of ska guitar put you off - this album is dark, and there's more ideas on this album than most similar acts' entire discographies.

Other recommendations: Rogue's March (1999), Jagged Thoughts (2001)

24.) Off With Their Heads - Hospitals EP (2006)

This is by far the best thing OWTH ever did. There's not a great deal of stylistic evolution from this point on, with the one notable shift since being a serious decline in irony. See, the lyrics this band employs are some of the most blunt, self-loathing, horrifyingly depressive shit I've ever heard, but at least on Hospitals, the music itself is poppy enough to undermine the darkness of the lyrics. You could argue the ease of putting out 15 minutes of solid material, but really, if the band built a full length off this by padding it with a few re-recordings from their split days, I think it'd be rated a classic.

Check out "Your Child Is Dead" and "Jackie Lee" for a taster.

Other recommendations: All Things Move Towards Their End compilation (2007), From The Bottom (2008)

23.) RVIVR - The Beauty Between LP (2013)

I'd been following RVIVR since the break-up of Latterman, but honestly never thought much of them 'til this album dropped. I mean, yeah, they had some great songs, especially on the Dirty Water EP, but this was the first time I was floored by an entire release. This album has this grandiose, conceptual feel without ever seeming blatantly so. I suppose similar could be said of the s/t, but holy shit, the songwriting on here is leagues beyond. On top of that, the production is so bright and full, augmented with tasteful keyboard and horn arrangements and fuck, the energy is intense and varied. This is one of those benchmark albums I could see people listening to a decade down the line. If you like pop-punk at all, you need this.

Other recommendations: Dirty Water (2010), Bicker And Breathe (2014)

22.) Chinese Telephones - s/t LP (2007)

To be honest, this is typically not the kinda pop-punk I'm into: that garage-y, lo-fi, Marked Men style stuff with fuzzy vocals. Fortunately, this - the sole album of Milwaukee's Chinese Telephones - is packed with great songs that elevate it beyond the aesthetic choices. There's a ton of energy and great hooks here, and they're one of those bands who sounds tailor-made for live shows, which is great since they broke up like 8 years ago or some shit.

Other recommendations: Democracy compilation (2009)

21.) Lemuria - The Distance Is So Big LP (2013)

Maybe it's kinda stupid to pick the least 'pop-punk' release this band did for a specifically pop-punk centric list, but hey, fuck you, this is free content. I first heard Lemuria back in '06 when my long lost friend put the demo song "Trivial Greek Mythology" on a mixtape for me. I thought it was gruesomely cute, and went back up my ass with the Steve Albini bands and whatnot. Like RVIVR, I always 'liked' Lemuria, but aside the material on The First Collection, I figured they were a band who kinda dulled as they grew older, culminating with Pebble, the only release of their's I actively DISliked. Surprisingly, this album is incredible. The songs bounce between cheery, colorful pop and brooding angst, with all previous strengths capitalized: the weird time signatures, clever lyrics, and huge hooks to the fore. Sure, it's kinda cutesy, but there's something too self-aware and smart here to write them off.
Check out "Paint The Youth", "Brilliant Dancer", and "Ruby" for a sampler

Other recommendations: The First Collection (2007), Get Better (2008)

HA HA OKAY NOW THAT's sorry I'm screaming that's enough for today! Join us next time on the History Channel for the second installment! It's funny because it's technically more "historical" than Ice Road Truckers or whatever. 

Joyce Manor's "okay" now

Today was a real humdinger. Here are a few things it was not like:
1.) Finding that love has been right before your eyes all along
2.) It being like dawn just after it was darkest
3.) getting a warm letter from a distant friend
3.) a day that doesn't involve going into shock for 10 hours
Finding my housemate deceased before breakfast may offer some creedence, but we'll let the panel of experts make that call. A wise man might suggest withholding such grievances on a format this unseemly. That man has likely not scrubbed stale blood off a wall while subduing abject horror. You'd think the medical examiner or a couple EMTs - people whose JOB entails desensitization to corpses and viscera could bust out some windex and fix that up, but you'd be wrong.
One thing's for certain, though: I didn't really like the last Joyce Manor album.
Then there's this:

I mean, not this, per se, but if you can imagine this song being played without a headless mannequin in blue jeans, then yeah, this. But let's real talk, you and me. Have a beer. We're all men here, burying our fear of mortality with innebriants: I'm not really feeling this new track. And yeah, it could be because it's boring, but see, in the past - the halcyon days, if you will - this wouldn't have mattered. No, because I championed the dix out of Joyce Manor, and with that comradery comes faith and integrity. Roll out a 12 minute LP after two full years? Aw yea bby tease me! Repackage two dumbed down versions of previously released tracks? Shit yes brother let's take this journey in a different light. A couple years ago I would've given this stupid 82 second track like six billion listens until it's constricted my teenage heart with vines of passion. But that was a different time, and since 2014's fantastic Never Hungover Again, the band's aged, and with that came a startling decline into placidity. Namely the drummer, who plays everything all normal now.

Cody - like every recording prior - shows commitment to growth, showcasing a band who's disinterest in pandering borders on contempt. Maybe that's a bit hyperbolic, but what I always expected out of Joyce Manor was change - all in accordance with the principle that I'd personally enjoy it, though. Cody shows the band slowing down, polishing their edge and getting a Brazilian on the stubbly bits. Genitalia. But that's what I liked about the band - there was always something a little manic and angsty in there, even as they  moved away from the rawness of their early EPs and debut.

When "Fake ID" hit I felt every one of the 16-26 muscles in my face strain to smile. "O-okay it's a little... a little different. That line about Kanye West is pretty embarrassing but... it's not bad!". But it was. "Fake ID" is easily the most nauseatingly happy and flat out, uh, 'stupid' sounding song the band's ever recorded, and this is AFTER they covered "Video Killed The Radio Star". A cover that eats up 2 minutes of a 5 second long album! WTF LOL. And yeah, it gets better from there, seeing as that stevia enema kicks things off, but not by much. Apparently "Stairs" is one of the first songs Barry ever wrote, and it's not hard to believe. I have no idea why they thought it was worth re-recording over a decade after the fact, but it's their longest to date, and startlingly boring for a band that tends to work best in the eyebrow arching territory. Similarly, "Do You Really Want To Not Get Better?" is a little mopey acoustic blob with no hook. Remember "Drainage" and "I'm Always Tired"? Same idea but, like, I mean they literally added it at the last second to make the tracklisting a nice even ten. That inspires confidence.

All that said, I actually really like "Make Me Dumb", and "Over Before It Began", which might be my favorite 'ballad-y' song they've ever done. The rest is okay, I guess. I dunno. "Angel In The Snow" would've fit nicely on Never Hungover Again, but honestly, I just don't feel any emotional connection to most of the tracks here. Nothing really brings the goosebumps or the bends (except "Fake ID", I mean). It's all kinda just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. 

I had to copy and paste that. I don't do MSDOS.

Y'know something? I didn't want to see that; someone I knew in a frozen gnarl, sprawled horizontally across a cot in a room teeming with 40s and neglect. I didn't want to have that image churning and morphing in my brain like some animate carving. I never knew them well, so I can't feign loss, but the emotions that are teeming up from bearing witness to it are something I'd never wish on anyone. That's it, I guess - the drab conclusion to all the times I entertained suicide: to be cold furniture in a still room. And it's people's fucking job to ride that wave of nausea every single day, never letting it crest because the backlash would put them out of work.

But yeah, not so into that album.

ITS THAT TIME OF YEAR

I think every post from the past 2 years contains a disclosure about 'coming out of retirement' so this one won't. Unless you count the last sentence. But no, don't do that, no. Let us progress together, you and I. Into the cosmic future.

As your number one source of extraneous Waxahatchee criticism, I felt a familiar tingle in my toes with the announcement of the band's 4th full length, Out In The Storm. "Finally!", I thought, replacing the moth balls around my notarized official p.s. eliot attire, "Another opportunity to convince myself I still enjoy Katie's artistic output!". But ultimately - like the thrill of assuming a new 'alternative' identity - the veneer wears thin and I'm left with a pile of XXL Tommy Hilfiger tees and fitted Expire snapbacks - discarded for cardigans and acoustic guitar.

I really don't want to explain this for the million billionth time, but let's say you like boring. I'm here for you. Thus, blah blah blah, I was fangirl #1 for everything Katie Crutchfield ever wrote but then Cerulean Salt came along and slipped me a mickey. To clarify, that album is boring and sucks, and the allusion stops at me passing out from that. There's no nefarious aftermath to offend you. I held out for Ivy Tripp, but again, I found myself unconscious and wrapped around a streetlight whenever I played it. See, the 90's weren't very good. And, sure, I'm wrong, but the point is: I'd be happy to never hear a band reference lukewarm tap water like Liz Phair, that dog., Veruca Salt, or Last Splash-era Breeders ever again. Thus, my disdain for Waxahatchee, post-American Weekend.

So when I heard there was another album happening, I knew I had to hear it but kinda in that 'need to go to jury duty' way. Fortunately, I found this tidbit off the Merge Records page:

"At Agnello’s suggestion, the group recorded most of the music live to enhance their unity in a way that gives the album a fuller sound compared to past releases, resulting in one of Waxahatchee’s most guitar-driven releases to date."

"Color me intrigued", I didn't think to myself, though I actually was pretty intrigued. A main issue of mine with the last two albums was the sterility of the instrumental performance. Cerulean Salt was waaay more guilty of this, but they both carried this tepid, k-hole'd studio musician feel that had so little personality, it literally sucked personality out of your body like a collapsed star. I'm being really fucking obnoxious, but bear with me, it may stop soon.

"Silver" sounds surprisingly good. It's the first track released, and Katie's pretty double tracked vocals carry a melody that sounds seriously like something an old shoegaze band would write. I could honestly do without all the 'oooh oooh' stuff, and feel like the track would benefit from less clutter, but the riffs are intriguing, and most surprisingly, the lyrics are SO COMPREHENSIBLE TO THE LAYMAN. I mean, look at this:

If I turn to stone
The whole world keeps turning
I went out in the storm
And I'm never returning

Where's the word "ostentatious"? Or "proclivity" pronounced really weirdly? I've always loved Katie's lyrics, but these seem so bold in their relative accessibility.

This is getting way too long, but to wrap it up: I'm surprised. I actually really like this new song. I'm not expecting an emotional pummeling on the heels of American Weekend anymore, but I'd be thrilled to connect with Katie's music again. Let the leaking begin.

BREAKING NEWS: young journalist wannabe exudes limp-assed "professionalism" on 3 year old album

This is pretty out of the norm for my lovably zZaAnNyY writing antics, but I've been doing little reviews on rateyourmusic.com, lately, mostly just to dick around and get my head Back In The Game™. I'm preeeetttyyy positive that no one needs a new assessment of an album that came out 3 years ago that was covered by all mainstream alternative music journals, but that's the fun of not giving a shit and doing things for the sake of doing them - SMASHIN THE CAPITALIST AGENDA, imo. Anyway, here's this dull, fairly reserved shit: 

I already did a little backstory thing for the Ivy Tripp review, but basically, I was a ridiculously huge fan of Katie's output from 2008 to 2013. I got the p.s. eliot demo off a blog randomly and never turned back, eating up their whole discography, as well as Bad Banana, the King Everything tapes, Waxahatchee's split w/ Chris Clavin, American Weekend, and even cried like a wimp at p.s. eliot's last show.

Needless to say, I was pretty forthy in the jaw when the announcement for this album came about, and then - subsequently - in denial about how little I liked it for about a year. I've since concluded that some albums are growers and some are just sort of impossible, and this falls somewhere in the middle (though definitely leaning more towards the latter). 

On this album, Katie chose to abandon the ultra lo-fi bedroom sound of her earlier solo works, so the majority of tracks are augmented by a couple musician friends, and presented with crystal clear production. That said, the focus still remains squarely on the bare songwriting itself, so the accompanying musicians never act as much more than stagehands for her performance. What this unfortunately translates into is a handful of otherwise decent songs turning to complete slogs due to to a bunch of clumpy, meandering studio takes. Seriously, Kyle McBride and Keith Spencer sound like fucking automatons fulfilling a programmed function more than members of a band, here. There's just no sense of chemistry or that they're even playing in the same state, let alone the same studio. Just sterile plodding that not only provides no energy, but stymies all existing energy.

If anything, though, it's the songwriting that fails to grab me. I dunno if this is due to Katie obviously reaching into new reference pools for her sound or what, but almost none of these tracks have an emotional core that I connect with. While "Blue Pt. II", "Tangled Envisioning", and "You're Damaged" are all pretty and likable, only the minimal bass-driven "Brother Bryan" and the incredibly poignant "Lively" crush my heart the way her old stuff used to. The rest alternates between sounding like weird, unfinished experiments or... just plain boring 90's grab bag alternative music. 

I get that musicians get sick of doing the same old shit, and change their sound as their tastes shift and they age, but really, the shift out of the familiar twee pop/pop punk/loner acoustica realm just doesn't do it for me. The songwriting - minus the tacked on accompaniments - is pretty scattershot, the production and back up tracks are bleach-tier sterile, and the lyrics just don't hit home in that bookish, broken hearted way that all her old projects used to boast. I think I'll continue to revisit this every 4-6 months for the conceivable future, but this is still one of the biggest letdowns I can think of. 

Like, in a musical sense. My life hasn't been that good.

xBREAKDOWNZx 4 a tender heart

So Portland Round 2 has been going pretty well, to say the least. I mean, plunging my eager fingers into the soil of true Purpose And Fulfillment™ has remained elusive, but still, I feel like I'm growing up at a respectable pace in lieu of getting the fuck out of ~crust_punk_lyf~. Like, hey, I have a job now! It's a dishwashing gig, which is a monstrous step down from being a farm faery, but because this is Portland, it somehow pays more than any job I have ever had. In other words, Portland is far, far too expensive. But in these tumultuous post-long term relationship times, it's the SLAMZ that have provided me the most solace. So today, let's skip down the cobblestone pathway of history for some of the sickest pit riffage there ever was, and hopefully, you'll feel the FKN MOSH like a cool towel on your feverish brow as well.

Well, this was supposed to be "Seeds Of Suffering" or "Breeding The Spawn", but apparently you can't embed SHIT anymore 'cause of new-ish youtube/google policies. This is still pretty solid, though, so whatever. Suffocation and I go way back to 2003 - right when they reformed and stopped putting out good music. Regardless, I proudly donned one of their embarrassing longsleeve shirts for years - with the Dan Seagrave art above, no less. You know the ones: they're all cottony and plastered with stupid shit on every conceivable surface, including the band's logo like 8 times on one sleeve. Kind of a graphic design quagmire, but hey, you have to admire how well they function on a eugenics level. Anyway, Suffocation are known for being pioneers of "brutal death metal", a genre so stupidly named I feel like I'm getting whiplash from all the times I uncritically spoke that title in front of normal people. I feel like that genre's parameters are sort of varied, but generally function along the same evolutionary lines as punk to hardcore punk - basically the XTREME augmentation of all attributes. Most notably, though, Suffocation threw in breakdowns more derived from bro-mosh hardcore than "Raining Blood". It's pretty funny to listen to the accounts of scene elders, as most of them seem to remember these guys being widely derided in their heyday. Considering how untouchable and groundbreaking they're considered nowadays. I feel like this can be chalked up to metalheads being the same strain of traditionalist luddite that occupy your local Bruderhof village.

Dying Fetus are great, as they're not only a band that elistist Mtn. Dew cicerones loathe for 'ruining metal integrity', but also remind me of being a complete dipshit and trying to defend their ridiculous name to my mother when I was like 16. They're pretty notable for kicking off the "Suffo-clone" trend, which basically amounted to white dudes in baseball caps trying their hardest to mimic Suffocation, but lacking the instrumental prowess necessary. You know what's easier than writing songs with complex time changes and "blazing" guitar interplay? CHROMATIC BREAKDOWNZ. I mean, listen to how fucking dopey this song is: that fucking bouncy-ass breakdown around the 1:15 mark... the attempts to be "technical" by throwing in little wanky harmonic bits amongst all the strutting pit riffs... that DEFINITELY stolen riff near the beginning! I completely non-ironically love this song, and it's helped me 'pick up the change' numerous times in the past week, usually while cooking. And again, because of blogspot, you'll have to deal with this muddy live version instead of the Bathe In Entrails one, but it's kinda sweet anyway. Look at the bouncer in the front row; my personal narrative for him involves daydreaming about a job that doesn't involve socially inept longhairs with low hygienic priorities, nor the bolts of sweat flagellating him from behind.

No Zodiac are kinda special, as they're not only incredibly silly in a deadpan way, but one of the only metallic beatdown bands I can think of that went "full metal" without becoming some nerd pandering bullshit. For clarification, look at Job For A Cowboy, Annotations Of An Autopsy, or The Black Dahlia Murder. All of those bands' 'growing pains' essentially translated to capitulating to people who edit Metal Archives, alienating the entirety of their teenage fanbases as a result. Honestly I can't even tell what the fuck song this is because the quality is so cellphone-y, but no big deal - the TRANSGRESSIVE NIHILISM IS UPON U LOL. I literally experienced several dreams of seeing these guys play when I was in their hometown last summer. I'm not sure if it was rooted in deep seated regret for not snatching up one of their be-logo'd ski masks or what, but in retrospect, I feel the karate mosh would have been substantial. If you want a comprehensible example of this band to go on, check out the video for "Chaos Reigns" on youtube. It's great, they kidnap a bunch of people and set them on fire for vague, "Satanic" reasons.

This could've been a much longer post, but as you can see above, blogspot is not making this a simple endeavor. I wouldn't typically resort to posting a video of some sixteen year old doing a play-along on guitar, but I'm a little too deep into this now to jump ship. To be honest, my interest in the band waned pretty massively in the past few years. Somewhere along the hallowed path of their stylistic evolution - from humble Infest-worship beginnings to heavy-as-shit NYHC standards - they decided to hop the trend barge and put out Blinded, a fairly dull Entombed-via-Nails midrange sanctuary. I spent a decent chunk of my teenage years listening to and burning out on that 'classic swedish death metal sound', so to hear a hardcore band appropriate it from another hardcore band sorta dashed my enthusiasm for HW. I haven't heard their last LP, Rust, admittedly, but Isolation is great
pit "riff clinic" (bleah), and the adorable Jack-O-Lantern shirt I got at their Halloween show in 2010 ('11?) made up for getting elbowed in the throat, even.

In conclusion, I finished this at 1:30 AM, published it, and woke up in horror when I re-read the trainwreck I unleashed upon the zero remaining readers. Also, do you remember when H-Dubz's vocalist didn't have any tattoos? Should I cut part of my face off an eat it for referring to Harms Way as "H-Dubz"? COMMENT BELOW

2015 roundup part #2

Today I feel unlike a diaper that has been worn into the kiddy pool and, subsequently, swelled up to the point of exploding, so let's return to the exciting world of 'WAT I THINK ABOT BAND XD'

5.) Poor Form - Same Excuse

So I'm sort of writing this as I listen to it for the first time, so I hope you're prepared for this groundbreaking journey into music journalism we're about to embark upon IN REAL FUCKING TIME. See, when I was writing this post's header, I started to mention how it was kind of disappointing that Poor Form didn't release anything last year, as I've been wanting to blog about them forever. Apparently, though, this EP came out on December 25th,  so its like a Christmas present that got left under the radiator or something and - oh okay now it's over. 

Poor Form is a gritty pop-punk quartet from Vancouver, BC with members of Needles//Pins and Siren Songs, and this EP is apparently only seven minutes long. I'm putting it on again now, but I'm starting to see why this kind of stupid gimmick writing isn't going to be particularly useful to anyone. It sounds great so far, though - same straightforward mid-high paced gritty pop-punk sound, but with a much fuller, more lustrous production style, and a new equilibrium between Legs' and [the other vocalist]'s tradeoffs.

If you've heard their awesome 2014 demo and let it soundtrack a zillion bike rides, too, I'm sure you'll love this too, especially if you don't approach it in the ridiculously jilting, unfair way I currently am. 

6.) Hop Along - Painted Shut

This is definitely my favorite album of the year, which is fortunate, because it was getting embarrassing to own two different Hop Along shirts without even really liking their old shit. I mean, like, there was no Machiavellian scenester gerrymandering going on or anything, I just slowly concluded that Freshman Year is bizarrely back-loaded, and Get Disowned's 'studio project' style sounds more convoluted than expansive to me nowadays.
What we know: Painted Shut is fucking great and I've been dicking around on the BeerAdvocate forums for about an hour. Hence: you know how Hop Along played as a trio up until sometime in 2013, and they couldn't replicate all the overdubs so their sound got really heavy and "rocking" in a live setting? That's the young, underattenuated base beer. So then you add the adjunct of guitarist Joe Reinhardt for complexity and kidnap and age the whole band in the Saddle Creek barrel warehouse for many years to attain the pop songwriting maturity evident here. Then you tap the cask in 2015 and it's all just stale bodily fluids because you murdered a whole bunch of people through entombment. I was going to somehow throw in a bottle conditioning metaphor but this has been horrifyingly embarrassing as it is. You know what they say about taking chances: don't!
Anyway, the band's sound has become much more accessible and consistent on the whole, with tons of hooks firing on all fronts, less overdub carpet bombing, and a warm, full production style. I was going to further elaborate on the comparatively straightforward songwriting style evidenced here, but actually, I wouldn't say the band's esoteric elements are dialed down much, really - they're just re-purposed for easier listening, and largely come through by Reinhardt's nuanced guitarwork and Francis' most acrobatic-yet-melodic vocals to date. Think "Kids On The Boardwalk" and "Tibetan Pop Stars" more than "No Good Al Joad", I guess.
I'm not usually "Mr. Highlights" on stuff I think rules fairly and consistently from atop it's benign throne, but if you want a few to go on, check out "I Saw My Twin", "Waitress", and "the rest of the album". It's like, >40 minutes.

7.) Divers - Hello Hello

Here's a band from Portland with what appears to be a penis on the cover. That's the place I'm catching a plane back to tomorrow at 5 in the fucking morning. To think - I wouldn't be afforded this sort of awesome, fundamental experience if reality wasn't increasingly slipping from my fingers with such velveteen luxury. Some days you get the plane, and other days you don't get the plane because you are apparently losing your grasp on reality and would've sworn you booked your flight two days later than you missed it. Anyway, my ass.
Divers are a band I know nothing about and sound like something I'd hate. They've got that now notorious blend of heartland rock and Midwest pop-punk/alt rock down pat, have dramatic, furrowed brow, bobbing-adam's-apple-passionate vocals, some 'whoa ohs', and lyrics that come from the Springsteen school of Americana. I think. They're kinda hard to understand, tbh, and they're one of those bands that doesn't put their lyrics on their bandcamp.
Weirdly, I actually really fucking like this, and could maybe only pick out one track I don't really care for out of the ten present. If that description puts you off as xhardcorex as it did me, know that this isn't some radio tailored Gaslight Anthem cheesecockery, where you can play bingo with the words "drive", "Maria", "radio" and a slew of allusions that'd practically get you called out on tumblr for 'working class cultural appropriation'. Like, you totally get the lingering odor of dipstick-wiped-on-Levi's and unfiltered Camels, but there's no cherry-picked period stereotypes resting on a pop-rock framework here. These songs all sound organic, loose, and flowing as they bounce around between sweaty anthemic shit to quiet, slinking numbers without really repeating themselves. I've rarely put much of an emphasis on musical talent in my life, but sometimes something like this gets to you and you realize how limited most of the stuff you like is in terms of creative songwriting. I honestly don't know who to recommend this stuff to, but I've been playing this regularly for the past 3 months and I notice new bits everytime I put it on. If you want a few tracks to go on, check out "Listen Teller", "Breathless", and "Stateline". Maybe I'll actually leave my house to go see these guys when they play a zillion times directly in my neighborhood.

2015 roundup part #1

2015 was a fucking toilet. I lived in New Orleans, founded a sweet punk house with some good friends, discovered that living in a shotgun is like operant conditioning for paralyzing anxiety, rekindled a love of suicidal ideation, and learned how to create an ouroboros of sadness by drinking to feel anything which leads to feeling less the next day which leads to drinking etc. Eventually I went back to NY, regained some level of sanity, immediately dashed it on the windshield of traincore life, crossed over to the opposite side of the country, got hella sick, had two friends die within a two month span, and lost a partner of 5 years due to horrifying depression. Also, there's unlisted bonus tracks you can hear irl, but first you have to help shatter my exoskeleton of numbness so the tears can finally escape their cimmerian prison.

In summation: aw shit yeah brah 10/10 would entertain cutting my own head off again

You know what I hate? The internet.
'Kinkshaming is LITERALLY a thing I can't even I'M DONE Y'ALL Y'ALL Y'ALL [bevy of slang terms and phrases lifted shamelessly from black culture by white kids who only derive joy out of criticizing others for cultural appropriation] smh cuckcuckcuckcuckcuck problematic AF Y'ALL'

And so it is 2016. Admittedly, I haven't really kept up on current music like I used to. I pretty much spent the entire first half of the year just endlessly replaying old Guided By Voices and Jason Molina stuff (apropos of my sad, drunk aesthetic at the time), and then the second half being a hobo in my cleanest glad rags and a bindle full of dreams. To make up for this, I've combed through a ton of personal and collective 'best of '15' lists and exposed myself to everything I could, meaning dozens of albums in the past 6 weeks. THE VERDICT: FUCK YOU, I guess

1.) Beach Slang - The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us

This band has magically turned into the Wesley Willis of 'meaningful', young adult-oriented 90's rock revival. I'm not even trying to be a condescending dick here - this seriously bums me out - but how does a band run out of ideas this fast? Almost every single one of these ten tracks sounds like a barely tweaked rewrite of an older song, and this is coming from a band that only had 8 recorded numbers under their belt, prior. In fact, if you cut out "Bad Art And Weirdo Ideas", "Too Late To Die Young", "Porno Love", and "Young And Alive" (to a lesser extent), you're basically getting 6 inferior versions of "Filthy Luck" or "All Fuzzed Out" from their first couple EPs. I'm not sure what happened here, but I'm kinda guessing all the hype pushed these guys to crank out tunes faster than they could recharge their creative juices, because this is sort of a slog to get through, and it's only like 27 minutes long. Maybe I'm being too harsh, because I know a lot of people really love this, but it's just hard to get behind since I'm apparently one of those "I only like the demo" guys now. oh god how do i stop it

2.) Year Of Glad - s/t

When NONA announced they were calling it quits in late 2014, you can bet your bottom dollar that I made sure to inexplicably avoid their final show, especially since it was taking place less than an hour away from where I lived. Luckily, every member instantaneously formed new bands or joined old ones, and thus the roaring emptiness inside is temporarily quelled once more.
Year Of Glad is guitarist/sinus cavity projectionist Mimi's new project, featuring one of the 1994! guys (Chris), plus Mike from Good Luck and another Mike from some basically eponymous band. I never really dug 1994!, so fortunately this sounds more like an even tighter, better version of NONA over anything in the math-y, twinkly whatever subgenre that band occupied. That sentence was poorly structured to deliver the impact intended. An even better NONA is just what this post-9/11 world needs, though. The songwriting here is, like, rotavirus-level infectious with lots of clever arrangements, instantly memorable melodies and leads, and sweet vocal tradeoffs from Mimi, Chris, and one of the Mikes. I don't know why I've been assuming you know what NONA sounded like, but as an extension, this is more of that pop punk/90's alt rock Frankenstein stuff, but luckily, without any of the dull, Veruca Salt-ish trudging that occasionally smushed the fun out of Through The Head. Did you ever try to listen to an entire Veruca Salt album? I did, and now my life is in ruin, as evidenced above.
I'm tired and my partially-skunked-IPA buzz is in decline, so this review is probably as substandard as usual, but also I feel bad about it. Regardless, this EP is fucking great, and I seriously can't wait to hear what these guys do next.

3.) Waxahatchee - Ivy Tripp

I love the shit out of American Weekend. The lo-fi fuzz settles all over my psyche like a warm blanket in a northeast winter, and it's something I've played on a zillion sad days. My love of Katie Crutchfield's songwriting dials back to 2008, when the p.s. eliot demo hit, but 2013's Cerulean Salt was effectively the flighty "I need to find myself" college phase that kills high school relationships. For me, CS was way too cold and bitter sounding to love, the new back up band sounded sterile and rigid, and the scattershot, '90's grab bag' experimentalism made it seem more directionless than expansive.
Ivy Tripp has the same mess of styles going on, but fortunately, A) the songs no longer sound like hastily filled in sketches by a studio band and B) the songs have more energy and warmth. Well, except "Air", which sounds like a CS leftover, but surprisingly, a really good one. There are a few complete throwaways like "Stale By Noon" and "Blue", but "Under A Rock", "Poison", and "The Dirt" are excellent indie rockers, and the rest alternates between slow blocks of synth fuzz and pretty acoustic numbers. "La Loose" is just awful, though. It sounds like a trust fund at a beach party with a bunch of asymmetrical hairstyles or something. And what sucks is that underneath all the cloying "ooh ooh"s and tacky synth shit is a really pretty, sad song. If you see Waxahatchee live (which I totally reccomend), she plays it alone on an acoustic, and it magically turns from 'track I'll never listen to intentionally again' to 'heartwrenching'.
I know this sounds unenthusiastic for being "such a bigh fannn", it's just that little of it has grabbed me anywhere near as hard as any of her pre-2013 material. I can actually understand why people would like this, unlike SOME ALBUMS I KNOW, and I'm sure I'll be listening to this intermittently for a long while to come, it's just not going to be another 'tea and a journal on the front porch in the rain' album for me. I'm super happy she's finally getting the praise she deserves, but I'm just not a fan of this Pitchfork-y musical direction.

4.) Jeff Rosenstock - We Cool?

This album is great, but I seriously can't stomach this shit right now. Admittedly it's been a long while since I listened to anything Rosenstock related, but I really don't remember his lyrics ever being this bleak or hopeless before. I mean, look at some of this:

"I got so tired of discussing my future
I’ve started avoiding the people I love
Evenings of silence and mornings of nausea
Shake and sweat and I can’t throw up.
I got so tired of discussing my future
That I walk through my life like I’m the only one" 

"Were you supposed to not go to college?
Stay in your mom’s house on the computer
googling grief cures, talking to no one
Waiting for life to start feeling better?
Waiting for pain to not be a constant?
Waiting to feel like anyone’s honest?
Waiting for me to stop being sarcastic
Because I can’t accept all the bad things that happen."  

"Getting drunk all alone in a quiet hotel room.
You repeat all the most shameful things that you’ve been through.
It dawns on you, that it’s true, fucking nobody loves you.
They’re waiting for you to fall, and take your place."  

"When your friends are buying starter homes with their accomplishments
Drinking at a house show can feel childish and embarrassing
With people glaring because despite what the advertisements said:
Malt liquor doesn’t make you young."

The thing is, these lyrics don't really resolve themselves through ironic posturing or pep-talk choruses like they might have in the Bomb The Music Industry! halcyon days. They're just... deadening, and if the music wasn't the kind of bombastic carnival shit Jeff's practically trademarked (NOW SKA-FREE), this would probably be unlistenable. I guess it might be me, but all the stuff on here about feeling like a failure, struggling with personal loss, and sinking into numbness through vices isn't cathartic as it is horrifying right now.

But hey! Those hooks!

Okay fuck this I'll make a second installment later.

BREAKING NEWS on The Front Bottoms

So I guess I live in Portland now. If you haven't been, it's actually a lot less noxious and bordering on tactless self-parody than all the shit I grew up adjacent to (Williamsburg, Bushwick, Koreatown, NYC in general now etc.), but that might be like saying the equator isn't that hot if you grew up in the core of the earth. I don't know, but I like being here slightly more so than endlessly milling around the country like a low-charge magnet for federal trespassing warrants.

Speaking of which, this one time me and my friend were trying to get to the Pacific Northwest so we burned through the better part of month trying to hop a train going to Richmond, Virginia. I know! I thought 3000 miles NW was directly south, too! After abandoning the Selkirk, NY yard for essentially being the Excommunicate layer of social purgatory, we scammed a bus out of Albany to Bergen County in New Jersey. Multiple-pints-of-blood-lost-to-insect-life and execrations at the McDonald's later, we were finally burning to death on a gondola heading to Richmond in the middle of Summer.
Hence, The Front Bottoms.

(they're from Bergen)

To be upfront, this band's not for everyone. Actually, they're barely for me, even. Like, I've heard them described as sounding kind of like a combination of Andrew Jackson Jihad and Say Anything. That sounds pretty close to a mash up between abscessed gums and a disparaging letter from a collection agency to me, but it's actually a pretty enjoyable, original sound. While this is their third LP, the band has seemingly disowned the previous self-released full lengths, so the self-titled/untitled factor marks this as more of a "true" debut and not a pandering, "returnin to our rootz" sort of album (ie Korn, like, twice).
I guess for all INTENSIVE PURPOSES, The Butts That Are In The Front are a two piece with some detachable, touring/recording parts, but this album's filled out with lots of cheap, lo-fi keyboard/synth shit, a real, live trumpet, and a bunch of clever secondary vocal arrangements. That said, I figure the core members, Brian Sella and Mat Uychich, could mostly stick it out on their own, since the unembellished framework they provide is pretty strange and distinct. You get the tight, super dancey backbeat from Mat, and the repetitive acoustic riffs and bizarrely specific-yet-vague storytelling from Brian, and somehow their combined powers can make a song with this fucking chorus emotionally resonate:

And I will remember that summer
as the summer I was taking steroids
because you like a man with muscles
and I like you.

See, if I had done any research on this band before downloading their first proper album, I definitely wouldn't have ended up downloading it. Their approach on paper reads like something I've grown out of viciously since the olden days of attending Plan It X fest and 'guessing I'd give ska a try', but fortunately, for all their obliqueness and college-y lyricism, there's a lot to like here.
The Front Bottoms, to me, sound exactly like one of those hype bands that ruthlessly gentrify Tumblr with 'meaningful lyrics macros' for a few months or so. They're one of those bands like Beach Slang or The Gaslight Anthem where - regardless of your initial aversion - you eventually fold and check them out 'cause you can't stand wondering anymore - 'would joining the omniscient drum circle of pubic mound pounding over this shit also bring ME joy?'. Just like those two bands, though, these guys are almost exclusively prompted by their strong 'x factor' - so much so that their other traits kinda pale in comparison. TGA had the out-of-nowhere Springsteen/Replacements/Petty-filtered-through-a-pop-punk-lens thing going on, Beach Slang revived that Goo Goo Dolls-y 90's sound with super prosaic lyrics about rock 'n' roll and youthfulness, and The Front Bottoms are the weird pastiche of elements I described above.

On that note, I wouldn't say the songwriting here is anything mindblowing, and the cluttering of overdubs sometimes lends it a slightly amateurish vibe to my ears, but it's more about the aesthetics here than reinventing the songstructure wheel. There's just something so likable and infinitely re-playable about these songs. While the tracks "Flashlight", "Swimming Pool", "Rhode Island", and "Father" are definitely the stand outs for me, everything but the final two tracks are pretty close to great (#11 is just lacking in hooks, and #12 has a chorus that feels completely inappropriate to the dark, somber quality of the verses and bridge). This was one of those albums much like Common Rider's Last Wave Rockers where the first, unsuspecting listen drew me in immediately and was quickly canonized into Watchtower pamphlet territory, passing out recommendations wildly to whoever didn't respond with "Steve where have you been this band has been popular as fuck for like 5 years now don't you use tumblr". And yeah, I do, but not to look at a bunch of 16-21 year olds transposing 'meaningful' lyric fragments over Microsoft desktop backgrounds, so I guess I missed this phenomenon. I mean, look at this Louvre-tier renaissance of macros in the Graeco-Roman tradition.
Depending on how taut and sensitive your anus is, the lyrics may be the primary barrier to your enjoyment of this album. There are definitely times where they threaten to intrude on a good time (the chorus to "Bathtub", for instance), but then there are lines like this:

But you were broken bad yourself. You were mad as hell you felt if you had done anything with anyone else it would have worked out so well. But you are an artist and your mind don't work the way you want it to. One day you'll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom. And you'll be thinking how did I get here? Where the hell am I? If the roles were reversed you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.

"Flashlight" is another good example, and while the lyrics sound like they were written without concern for the listener's desire to instill order in a lawless world, that's what really strikes me as appealing: there's something so nebulous and collage-like about them, yet somehow they all seem interwoven, like a collection of brief glimpses into an intensely personal network of memories. Saying this may go down as the most publicly embarrassing thing I've ever done, but I guess the Tumbleez haranguing their 14 year old peers about complex sexual politics and embroidering The Story So Far lyrics on kitchen towels are right this time.

I don't expect to change anyone's mind on a band everyone's embraced or reviled for half a decade already, but sometimes you just need to get excited about stupid shit on your hopelessly out of date blogging operation.

Rented World: Eh.

I guess I'm writing on here again. How about some worthlessly late appraisals of 2014 releases I started writing about, then abandoned to work on a farm/hop trains poorly?

This one was a hhhHHHWHALE of a bummer. As evidenced in that mindnumbing bible of a post I shat out on The Menzingers an eon back, I followed these guys from the start, but never really dug them much 'til On The Impossible Past "dropped" in 2012. To me, the shift into a more "alternative" direction (which entailed a slowed roll, less dated scream-singing, and a generally more mersh luster) granted the songs a license to DOWN THA PUNX and focus on realizing their melodic potential, which, tbh lol, was the only thing that kept me paying attention after the first two.
When "In Remission" was released as a lead-off for Rented World, I noted a new buttrock-y thuggish-ness to the proceedings, but the successful gamble they take on the song's structure and the multiple, soaring choruses had me stoked as fuck. I puked out Punknews-y sentiments like 'FUTURE AOTY FER SURE, BRO' to the (very) few friends who showed interest, but then "I Don't Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore" hit the net. To be fair, it is a solid track, one which we can enjoy with our well-oiled beards, U.S. microbrews, and sense of entitlement in the pit, but certainly confirmed my lead on their descent into dumber territory. The cauldron of influences the band are ladling from this time around is much more 90's MTV rock heavy, and hooolllyyy shit am I not nostalgic for that bullshit. I know I'm the poster-boy anomaly for my entire now-grown-up generation, but I fucking loathed construction-site boombox rock like Weezer, Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins and all that "tortured artist" grunge shit back in the day, and surprisingly, dislike it even more now.

But y'know, NONA was a total Frankenstein of dorky 90's nostalgia, and I fucking loved them before their untimely demise last year. My central issue is more... everything else, really. The production is massive and corny, especially evidenced in the layered vocal moments, and I doubt any stripe of perfectionist savant could sequence these tracks into something cohesive. I'm not demanding a conceptual meisterwerk where each track is a puzzle piece, or hell, even an overarching mood like OTIP - this literally sounds like a bunch of random songs mushed together, though. A chorus here, a bridge there - there's a decommissioned minefield of goodies ("Bad Things" and "Nothing Feels Good Anymore" have a couple great riffs between them despite otherwise being messy/dull), but very few of the tracks throw you into your own angsty, jump-cut apocalypse of a music video as you're walking down the street of the town you claim to hate, reflecting on "tight" friends and "zany" misadventures and whatever.
"In Remission" is fucking fantastic, however, and "Rodent", "I Don't Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore", and "Hearts Unknown" come pretty close, but even Greg's tracks are mostly flaccid ballads too drippy and flat-out depressing to really raise a lighter to. This isn't to say that's Tom's contributions win by any means ("The Talk" is like Green Day "returning to their roots" circa 2010's), but hey, this is the first album I can say the two are neck and neck. One just needed to stop writing good songs, I guess.
Overall, it's not "awful" by any means, just a major step down and into territory I'm generally uninterested in. Having seen them play last year with Lemuria, Cayetana, and PUP was killer, though, and even the most skippable songs here are a lot of fun in a live setting, I just can't see myself listening to this the whole way through much more after this review is over.

some newer plop plunk goods

Cayetana's a three piece from Philly that apparently Tom May did a lot of salivating and interpretive dance propaganda for. I dunno. He gave them positive press, anyway, and of course, as the significantly less interesting songwriter for The Menzingers, you can bet your bottom dollar the people listened.

Cayetana's demo started flying off the big box store shelves late 2012, but I didn't end up hearing them 'til somewhere mid last year, right before I dove into the traveling vortex and forsook the nurturing teat of internet news. The demo, while solid, didn't really sink in much, and I mostly forgot about the band 'til the Hot Dad Calendar 7' was announced back in March. Emphatically throwing my hands up and uttering "oh, what the heck" with a canned asshole laugh, I tracked it down and was actually really impressed. The band's definitely not doing anything flashy here, but much like my favorite band ever, P.S. Eliot (to which the band could be compared), once the thin, flattening production loses it's potency, there are some totally great, endlessly relistenable songs under there. This here single features the title track and a re-recording of the best track from the demo, Ella, and their jangly indie-punk sound really hits home. Points go to the boldly simple-yet-effective songwriting, the emotive, forceful basslines, and the singer's lovely, quivery voice. Give it a go, and then, assuming you don't hate the shit out of it, keep a tongue out for the band's first LP, Nervous Like Me, in August this year.

BONUS ROUND:

Hey, remember when I made that post on how randomly throwing a bunch of female-fronted bands together to make a comparison not only makes you seem like an idiot, but a reductionist/sexist idiot? Because this one takes the cake: 

Gary Sleith ie "some guy on bandcamp": I love indie of this nature, FFO Hop Along, Lemuria, Big Eyes etc I LOVE THIS EP!! They've signed to Tiny Engines, can't wait to near more Favorite track: mountain kids.

Maybe you're not familiar with these three, so let me be direct here: this might be the most ridiculous conglomeration of bands I've ever seen used as a descriptor ever. Ever. Not only do none of these bands play the same style of music, none of them sound even remotely alike at fucking all, nor does Cayetana notably borrow elements from ANY of them. What the fuck is the unifying "nature" here? The vaginas? I mean, seriously, Hop Along sounds so, so unlike Big Eyes it's like - why it's like there was no actual criteria for making this comparison at all!

This is kind of a surprise. I was planning on writing up a positive review of this album, heralding it as "an unfairly ignored blah blah my ass" or something, but then, upon re-listening to it for the first time in a while, it's actually kind of... not my thing. Like, at all, actually. I could tell you why or just move on, but hey, let's be a dick about it for a literary exercise. BASICALLY: are you a man in your mid-20's to early 30's? Do you have a beard and drink fairly often and to excess? Maybe your politics lean more into libertarianism than anything that requires much self-questioning or action? Do you dig later Hot Water Music, Jawbreaker, and Dillinger Four? Then you'll LOVE three thousand bands that synthesize this exact same mixture of elements without adding much of anything to the cannon! With lyrics ranging from quoting Vonnegut to toasting to losing your best gal to vague political commentary to a hamfisted homage to Furi Kuri, you can almost smell the beard oil and Evan Williams through the speakers.
I'm being mean but I can't believe how many bands still sound like this. Some of it's passable, some of it's cringe-worthy or eye-glazingly dull, but holy shit, that complete lack of hooks. And those vocals. Fat Mike levels on unnecessary enunciation on the standard issue Midwest drunk beard guy vocalist makes for not the best time ever. The track "Irish Coffee" is kind of enjoyable, at least. Give it a listen here if I haven't douchebag'd you out of potential interest.

I checked this out because some random guy in the comments section for punknews was like, "Beach Slang is good". SIR ITS A DEAL. Strangely enough, this actually is really, really good, and apparently has an equally good pedigree. I had no idea of this, but apparently the band's made up of members of Ex-Friends, the insanely good NONA, and is helmed by ___ Snyder of Weston. I've physically owned Weston's Got Beat Up for, like, 5 years now, and it just occurred to me I've never even heard it once before, likely because it of the ULTRA POP PUNK cover and song titles. Like "Retarded". Remember the 90's? When that was an okay thing to not only say in public, but title a song as? Looks like I finally have some incentive though, 'cause Snyder's throaty, Paul Westerberg-y vocals and surprisingly heartfelt, yearning, reveling lyrics are the metaphorical shit, and might even be good enough for me to not hate Weston and their (entirely presumed) reliance on "wuh-uh-oh"s and "light-hearted" misogyny.

Who Would Ever Want Anything So Broken? is the band's debut, and apparently only dropped a month back, making me topical for once. The 4 tracks here are a fantastic smoothie of 90's power pop a la Gin Blossoms and uh, fairly early Goo Goo Dolls (the whole planet's doing the whole re-sanctification of the shitty 90's bands, so this is now permissible in punkland) poured through a Jawbreaker sieve, replete with Paul Westerberg-Blake Schwarzenbach hybrid vocals. Look, that description kind of makes me do cloying "pfft" noises, too, but trust me - and trust Pitchfork, because me and Pitchfork, we're one in the same on this one. Yes, reliably tight bros 'r' us, all giving Kanye West rave reviews on our respective sites and nodding off as the car continues running in the sealed garage when hyperbole just isn't enough to express our academical snobbery on music that will sound dated in 5 years.
But yeah, this EP is ridiculously good. Check it out here.