Review Summary: Glam, slam, pop-punk jams to shake your ass to.
Winona Fighter finally takes a round in the big ring with their debut on Rise Records and delivers a heavy, infectious blow to the rock scene.
Let’s check the recipe for success here. Take a heaping spoonful of DIY punk sensibilities, mix in a healthy amount of pop perspicuousness, and sprinkle liberally with the manic glee of some killer 80’s hair metal. It’s pop-punk valid for both screaming along to and throwing down in the pit, and it’s been a long time coming. Coco (guitars, drums, vocal), Dan (lead guitar), and Austin (bass, producer) have been tearing up the underground for a few years now. Their debut EP Father Figure has been circulating for a couple of years now, and a steady drip of singles have culminated in an album that is a celebration of the bands drive to triumph.
Apologies to the Chef is a misnomer to the unapologetic music Winona Fighter brings to the table. Coco’s vocals harken back to the day of angsty leading females. A little bit Alanis, a lotta bit Courney Love. The vitriol that she can spiral into distinguishes her from those that came before and lend the originality that a lot of try-hard artists fall flat on delivering. It is not an homage, it’s an evolution. The guitars are thick, multilayered and there are riffs for days. Punctate that with a bass line that takes lead in many instances to bring variation that makes the entirety of this release a blast to listen to. Check out Swear to God That I’m Fine. The bass line during the verse evokes the best of Cali punk. Something you would have expected from Rancid of the Offspring. Back to those guitars though, there are some insane solos punctuated throughout – Talk, Hamms In a Glass… It’s just the right amount of thrash, metal, and glam to put a smile on your face. It’s like someone finally decided that it’s okay to make pop-punk joyous again.
The songs at time can be lyrically biographical (Subaru), nihilistic (I’m In The Market To Please No One) or straight up scathing (You Look Like a Drunk Phoebe Bridgers.) The production harkens back to the days when bands cared more about attitude and substance than slick techniques. Having had the privilege to see them live you are guaranteed that what’s on the record is what WF delivers live. What it does amazingly is give that live energy on the recordings. I can guarantee that two listens in you’ll be screaming along to at least two or three songs, and at least one of them will be Johnny’s Dead.
Winona Fighter is not your real dad, they are here to bonk you up, make you smile, and have some fun. If you’ve been missing the halcyon days of excellent pop/punk/alternative music let Apologies to the Chef be your reminder that there are still cool people making excellent music in the world. If they come near your area, check them out. The bombast on the album translates masterfully live
