11 Songs, 29 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

Considering punk rock and its endless permutations have been with us for decades, it's no surprise that musicians working the neighborhood embrace and attack the form, often simultaneously. The melodies come quickly. The chords fall in line more swiftly. But then a decision must be made: does a group keep it simple or try to unlock something new? The Los Angeles–based art-punk duo No Age always has catchy melodies; it's what it does to them that makes things interesting. "I Won't Be Your Generator," "Lock Box," and "C'mon, Stimulating" have the guts of Ramones songs tucked inside the chaos, but the dirty mixes and haphazard recording methods ensure the appeal is either enhanced or rubbed raw. It's a matter of how attached one is to traditional presentations and why potential fans need to be okay with the "art" aspect of art-punk. For example, "An Impression" and "Running from a Go-Go" are No Age's ballads, where simple guitar parts melt into sawing instruments and vocals make little attempt to be heard over the orchestral-junkyard weave.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Considering punk rock and its endless permutations have been with us for decades, it's no surprise that musicians working the neighborhood embrace and attack the form, often simultaneously. The melodies come quickly. The chords fall in line more swiftly. But then a decision must be made: does a group keep it simple or try to unlock something new? The Los Angeles–based art-punk duo No Age always has catchy melodies; it's what it does to them that makes things interesting. "I Won't Be Your Generator," "Lock Box," and "C'mon, Stimulating" have the guts of Ramones songs tucked inside the chaos, but the dirty mixes and haphazard recording methods ensure the appeal is either enhanced or rubbed raw. It's a matter of how attached one is to traditional presentations and why potential fans need to be okay with the "art" aspect of art-punk. For example, "An Impression" and "Running from a Go-Go" are No Age's ballads, where simple guitar parts melt into sawing instruments and vocals make little attempt to be heard over the orchestral-junkyard weave.

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