Review Summary: One pretty seven inch, two awesome bands, three solid tracks.
Ever notice how when members of a couple bands that you like start a new group together, regardless of whether or not the new project dons the title of "supergroup", the result is more often than not surprisingly underwhelming? Defining characteristics of each member often end up falling through the cracks in the foundation, and what results is one tepid, very watered-down LP, a mandatory 6-stop tour on the East Coast, and then back to the respective original bands everybody goes (See:
Bad Books). But what if each of the original groups instead decides to toss a couple tracks into the middle and to combine these efforts on one release? Hence, the concept of the split 7", and in this case, a most satisfying result indeed.
Side one track one sees Joyce Manor pumping out yet another one of the songs that made their debut full-length (read: two-thirds-length) so fantastic, in which their drummer makes a bitch out of his instrument, frontman Barry wails about love and friends and starting over and punk rock and the like, and everyone else somehow manages to keep up. It's deliberate and stimulating, consistent with the high standard that Joyce Manor have set for themselves thus far. Less than 90 seconds separate inception and track two, in which the Torrance, CA punk-rockers cover 'Midnight at the Mutter Museum' by the now defunct Murder City Devils and add quite a bit of their own flair to it. Whereas the original trudged its way through an almost grungy-sounding four minutes, exhibiting that trademark garage-punk MCD sound, the Joyce Manor version takes on a more upbeat demeanor, supplemented by some newly introduced vocal harmonies and the raw but crisp Joyce Manor feel. It's no more than a fresh take on a solid old jam, but that's really all that is has to be.
Big Kids take over on side two, with a crackly apocalyptic Cold War era recording starting off the track before these three Oakland pals make a whole lot of noise of their own. 'Pig Through A Python' is uproarious - most of the vocals are drowned out by relentless and convulsive instrumentation engulfed in distortion and static. The song is cathartic and unrestrained, clashing head-on with pretty much everything that sucked about the Cold War with a rancorous attitude that would make Neil Young proud. All of this, my friends, packed into less than eight minutes of your time. Efficient, wouldn't you say?
