Rubber Band Gun's 'Bloodwork' Is a Surprise Drop Built Like a Basement Brill Building
A whole new Rubber Band Gun album materialized online on a Wednesday night in early September with no announcement — Bloodwork, out now on Historic New Jersey, the Philadelphia collective-slash-label Stereogum describes as “making retro-tinted pop-rock, scrappy yet finely crafted, familiar but seemingly beamed in from an alternate timeline.” Kevin Basko is the project, and his home studio is where all of this gets made.
The Sonic Breakdown
The Production & Mix
The Low-End: Basko’s own framing, from the album’s artist statement, is the best description of the method anyone’s going to write: “Records are blood tests / Blood changes fast these days.” That’s a record made quickly and on purpose, and the arrangements carry the evidence — Stereogum’s Chris DeVille lands on exactly the right two words: “The arrangements are loose and lovely.”
The Spatial Dynamics: Opener “Sic ‘Em” is the thesis. Paste’s Matt Mitchell hears it opening “in a palace of rococo hallucination,” and breaks the layering down to its parts: “Basko’s loose but droning vocal; Moales’ spell-caster ‘dogs on the loose’ harmonies; Sullivan’s lead guitar shaped like a cowlick.” DeVille clocks Basko’s delivery as “subtle conversational swagger, slightly detached yet never lacking in conviction, mostly hanging out in his lower register.”
Standout Performance
Sam Sullivan’s lead guitar on “Carlo,” which DeVille singles out as “especially appealing” — and, right behind it, the backing vocals from Emily Moales (who records as Star Moles) and Louise Sullivan, without which, DeVille says flatly, “the album wouldn’t be what it is.” Sam and Louise are siblings and put out Love & Devotion on the same label this summer. This is a scene covering for itself in the best way.
Why It’s Certified
“Sic ’Em” first, then “Zombie in the Country” — which somehow gets from “We found love in a homeless place” to “Prince would be mad at us” without blinking — then “Carlo,” then let “Songs You Love” close it. Mitchell’s summary is unimprovable, so we’ll borrow it: “Behold the feral soft-rock soap opera of our times.” Certified great.