


Vinyl LP

In New York City, a place that often threatens to collapse under the weight of its own myth-making, it’s easy to turn people into stories. Whether they’re moneyed Manhattan millennials, stalwart immigrant families carving out a home against waves of gentrification, or Timberland-booted hustlers, that all can become characters for overactive minds with time to kill on the subway. The members of NYC snot-punk trio Soaker, though? They’re not waiting for a narrator to tell their tale; they’d rather flip the script on any potential writer’s gaze with a quick eye-roll and crushing, roiling riffage. In Soaker’s story, laid out on their four-song debut EP, you’re just a stand-in for the last human piñata they grew tired of beating. Take “Montauk Blues,” a noise-punk barrage that comes off like Pissed Jeans if they swapped out emotional vomit for the real deal. There’s some churn in the track’s midsection that’s more Kilslug than Killdozer, but it’s too single-minded in its delirium to approach psychedelia. Throughout the EP, burly chord triplets brawl with relentless feedback before inevitably turning their fists back on you, the onlooker. “Vamp” kicks off with a Flipper-gone-pop progression and kicks it in the head just as quickly. By the track’s end, everything’s thrown through the window so it can be stomped by caveman drumming. Soaker recently told CLRVYNT they don’t care about fame or money. Add your safety to that list
—Nnamdi Bawsism