The words I scream are meaningless or holy things. They kiss my tongue before they split to fix someone. When nothing’s loud, I punch my heart. I flex my mouth until it comes on like a truth, brilliant and dumb. Man, they taught me to talk then told me to shut up. I never cared, but, man, it cut. I’m nothing clean. I’m garbage thoughts and dirty knees. A fucked-up punk, a bastard light. I ain’t no one’s son. Man, they taught me to talk then told me to shut up. I never cared, but, man, it cut.
Montreal psych-pop veterans sound as infectious and hypnotic as ever on their seventh LP, slinging jangly riffs and bright vocal harmonies. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 14, 2024