Teenage Cool Kids
Denton After Sunset

In the indolence of the flu-like state in which my upper sensory apparatus (the one that doesn't serve for thinking) finds itself, the catharsis offered by Teenage Cool Kids is conducive to shifting attention from my swollen and dripping present to a past that was once made of sip-worthy music.

Similarly to the feeling elicited by a photo of someone close to us from many years ago, whose galaxy we no longer know they orbit, there was once music that was refined, matured in graceful barrels to reach our clumsy ears in order to educate them to metabolize its stimuli.

It was the era of uncool bands, a bit subdued, a bit melancholic, a bit melodic, a bit everything without the everything but only with the bit. It was the years of Yo La Tengo!, Grandaddy, Blonde Redhead, dEUS, Pavement, and it was the music with which I grew up, melancholy included. Times when at "are you serious or are you kidding," there was someone who lo-fi, simply, but did it damn well. Therefore, my heart weeps to the notes of "Landlocked State," a true melodic gem worthy of Ride The Tiger. The legacy left by Yo La Tengo! is palpable even in dreamy rides like "Kachina Doll," where the initial clattering of guitars harks back to Malkmus's flair. The record remains enjoyable even in the post-punk forays of the opening track and "Zealous Convert" (the first in early emo territory, and the second with angry Blur à la "Chinese Bombs"). There is also room for flair: witness the garage-funky winking at Weezer in "Beyond The Grasp Of Guilt" or the cosmic intimacy of Van Pelt alternating with the sonic roughness of "Volvo To a Kiss." More than Big Troubles or Yuck, Teenage Cool Kids have managed to revive the crumpled heart of lo-fi in this twenty-first century.

A small self-produced masterpiece that follows two entirely anonymous and unknown LPs by a band that (90%) is no more, recorded in 2009 and released only a few months ago.