Reviews

La Pochette Surprise

Bikini Beach Atoll LP

Stoner-psych-fuzz-death-garage-rock with rotating vocalists that I’m sure would leave that high-pitched tinnitus lingering in your ears for several days when (if?) live shows happen again, and one forgets or has a credence against ear plugs. The ringing would be a subtle reminder that you saw a band sweat, scream, and destroy a set leaving it all on the stage. I used “stoner” as a description because if the band were from Southern California or signed to Castle Face Records, that’s a term that may get dropped around. But the band hails from Weinfelden, Switzerland and is too tightly explosive and punky energetic to really be stoner per se, more like a triple espresso with a heavy pour of kirsch brandy.

Hawel/McPhail Sorrow Wonderland LP

Sorrow Wonderland is fuzz-caked garage rock that mostly rolls along at a steady head-nod pace, then every so often cuts loose with some flying saucer bleeps and B-movie space effects, just to take it a little over the top. The production makes everything sound huge, and the twelve songs, averaging three minutes apiece, keep moving without wearing out their welcome. The English-language vocals won’t win any awards, but they don’t get in the way, either. This is the second album from the Hamburg duo of Rick McPhail (MINT MIND, TOCOTRONIC) on drums and Frehn Hawel (TIGERBEAT) on guitars and vocals, and it’s pressed in an edition of 250 on yellow vinyl. The building blocks are familiar, but they’re stacked at enough odd angles to stand apart from the pile of fuzz pedal bands out there, and I spent the whole record wondering what the fuck they were going to throw at me next.

Spucke Zustand cassette

Nine-song debut release out of Hamburg, Germany—this recording was also released on vinyl by No Front Teeth Records. Fittingly, given the digital collage used for the album art, the music on this cassette feels similarly slapped together. This recording essentially sounds like the audio equivalent of a collage. With four different singers and presumably just as many songwriters, it is hard to pin down exactly what SPUCKE is trying to be. This is kind of a street punk recording, but also has wailing rock’n’roll guitar solos, repetitive garage punk song structures with monotonous barking vocals, and one song that inexplicably sounds like it wants to be QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE. Take all the ideas, throw ’em in a blender, and pour them into nine separate portions to whip up one debut album. There is a reason that the tried-and-true method within punk is releasing a demo tape before jumping straight to a record. While I am a proponent of finishing all ideas, not every idea is fit for consumption. If SPUCKE is to withstand the test of time, I can almost guarantee that their next release will sound much more like a record rather than just a smattering of song ideas.