What comes to mind is “shoegazed power pop” — a strain of shoegaze that not only encourages more than toe-tapping, but perhaps even dancing. The album doesn’t delicately Drift, but drops like a massive psychedelic storm, surging with the energy of a live performance. It feels like waves crashing over you, in a good way.
The album kick-starts with “Sippy Cup,” which has crashing drums and hazily ringing guitars. Singer Sarah Nienaber doesn’t have the soft, gentle voice many female vocalists tend to go for these days. She wails; she growls. If her voice wasn’t poured over a wall of crashing drums, throbbing basslines, and blinking guitars, it might be reminiscent of the strength of Beki Bondage from Vice Squad and the rawness of Courtney Love from (early) Hole.
The third track, “Chores,” is a cinematic 6-minute drone, thick with static. The chorus, which vaguely admits, “I don’t know and you don’t know/ And they don’t know and we don’t know,” leads me to believe I don’t know, either. But what I do know is that I like it, and I’ll be there the next time they come to town.