Many bands are generic, and that’s fine. Some generic bands are academic exercises in executing and perfecting a given style. Some generic bands are just bored, boring, and in their lack of inspiration they just go through pre-set motions. But some generic bands just exude a style naturally, they just get it” on an innate level that isn’t learned or studied, it’s just who they are, a natural expression of the self. For noise punk, Cabbageheads is one of these bands. Drums that barely hold together, guitar that lives purely in the moment without regard to song or melody, bass that pops and bounces along at a million miles an hour, and vocals that reflect some very ‘hardened cynical bastard’ stylings, summing into a fun-loving high-energy ‘what’s going on? who cares anyway’ atmosphere.
Cabbageheads are the brightest young stars of the American noise punk landscape. From the same crew that brought you CloudRat and Scum comes everybody playing on the wrong instrument and doing it well enough to qualify as “songs” but poorly enough to still be appealing. Their keen ability to write good songs mixed with their amazing inability to play them correctly made them an instant smash hit at the SPHC headquarters. Their tireless work and dedication to improving their local scene and making punk happen generated an instant kinship with us too. This band is cool, important, and above all, very fucking noise.
Their live shows have a genuine sense of reckless abandon, confusion, and chaotic uncertainty, their “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK” talk played to its fullest. But I was most pleased that, despite my expectations and even my recommendations, they arrived in Baltimore to record with Mike Walls and I being more practiced and musically tight than I’d ever heard them before or after. So I think this record captures these songs in an ideal scenario, and we’re all very proud of the end result.
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