Review Summary: This fresh new garage-punk act isn't outstanding, but its potential is undeniable.
Think to yourself: how many artists out there knock it out of the park with their first album? Even if you can name a few, consider whether that debut laid the groundwork for something even better. Musicians rarely reach their creative peak with their earliest work; most first records are spotty, and perhaps they
ought to be, so that artists get to build on their strengths and smooth out their weaknesses. New Zealand's garage-rock band Cindy is our latest case study: they’ve been performing around Auckland indie venues for most of the past decade, always in support of other, bigger acts. At last, their debut,
The Way I Do, is their moment to shine—and it is as uneven as most first albums get, but brims with potential and energy.
Bookending a 30-minute debut with sprawling five-minute songs is definitely one way to make an impression; both these tracks breathe in a way that brings to mind the indie-rock soundscapes of their fellow Kiwis, The Beths. And there’s a slight country bent to opener ‘To Be Free’ that almost lulls you into a false sense of calm, right before the sudden rush of electric guitars, drums and shouty vocals for its final minute.
That last minute is the blueprint for
The Way I Do’s remainder and where Cindy show the most promise. With stunning guitar work throughout, their embrace of garage punk is deliciously energetic and filled with distortion, with the songs delivering their thrills before overstaying their welcome. The middle stretch of the record is where it hits its stride and where you’re likely to find Cindy’s stickiest melodies and catchiest riffs, with ‘Big Summer Blowout’ being an obvious, succinct highlight. ‘I Still Miss Your Smile’ is equally great, with an enticing start-stop feel to it that shows a band willing to stretch the boundaries of their sound. The track pulls back before surging into an even more intense climax, the band locking into an impressive collective groove.
If only such synergy was ever-present. Outside the aforementioned middle stretch, Cindy doesn't offer many other memorable thrills. Despite plenty of impressive guitar solos, the end product is a bit short of distinctiveness and replay value; the symbiotic nature of the band is lacking in many moments, resulting in some boilerplate punky garage-rock offerings (‘Powder Blue’, ‘Sunburn’, ‘10 Hour Love’). There’s laudable vigor on display here but that alone cannot cover its blemishes, with the vocal performances being the most noticeable one. Wildly inconsistent through
The Way I Do, the shouty vocal work is difficult to stomach in certain instances and while you could argue that such raw quality is essential to the genre, I’d wager that it poses a detriment to the early songs here, such as the one-two punch of ‘2 Star Restaurant’ and ‘All The Nice People’.
The Way I Do is messy and patchy, more than I’d personally like it to be—but its best moments offer a glimpse of what Cindy could become: a band capable of turning distorted garage rock energy into something explosive and unmistakably their own. They haven't
quite found that balance yet, with too many songs settling for genre familiarity when they could be pushing further. But a debut doesn't need to answer every question; it needs to give you a reason to stick around for the answers. Cindy has done just enough to make their next move worth anticipating.
