If there is such a thing as intrinsic melody, Psychic Teens has never heard of it. This Philadelphia wrecking crew crashes its way into your brain with throbbing bass and herky-jerky, post-punk guitars, riding a wave of gothy vibes straight to a noise-rock endpoint. Come, their newest, manages to freak out and entertain simultaneously; pig-fuck fans, ignore at your own peril.
Vocals throughout are clipped and monotone, a drawled bass that somehow maintains its endearing flatness. Imagine Swans’ M. Gira if he wasn’t always exhorting the audience toward “SEX GOD SEX,” and you’re getting there. Swathed in quick reverb, the group’s vocalist sounds like he exists in a different headspace, if not universe, than the rest of the band. But they maintain an ethereal tie, a dimensional tear where the one’s serial killer ramblings bleeds into the other’s crashing drums and makes it all work.
That’s because the real focus of this band, its true voice, is in the guitars. The heretofore-unidentified axe man (seriously, trawl through their official pages, there is no identifying information) slams the listener with riffs and scrapes his tremolo bar overtop of beds of feedback, double- or triple-tracking his parts into a dense wasp nest cocooning your head. It’s reminiscent of the work Andy MacFarlane did on the Twilight Sad’s Forget the Night Ahead, though without the knack, or desire, for harmony.
Take “Lust,” for example. The track builds on a Bauhaus beat before coming apart at the seams half-way through, wah pedals screaming and fuzz making a run for the direct center of your brain, vocals briefly ditching their composed cool. For most bands, this would be considered losing the plot, but Psychic Teens finds a way to make it work. “H#TE” and “Lord” follow similar paths but diverge by their ends.
There is, however, one huge misstep. “Veil” sounds like an Alcest demo, before everything gets dreamy, though if that sounds ideal, I can promise you it’s not. Where guitars were jittery and inventive before, they here use cheesy effects and trite melodies; if the band’s vocals are normally claustrophobic, on “Veil” they are just cramped and sleepy. Nothing comes together as it should, including a post-metal breakdown in the middle.
If that were the only representation of the band, then Come wouldn’t be worth your time. Thankfully, it’s an anomaly on an otherwise kick-ass album, one that hopefully sends Psychic Teens to new places. If you enjoy your post-punk revival with a focus on the psychotic, give it a shot.
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