Pent Up! (exclamation point intended) isn’t afraid to explore punctuation, much in the way that their grammatical forebears – Panic! At The Disco and Al B. Sure! – hoped to channel similar degrees of excitement. Yet, unlike those artifacts of romantic power pop and middling R&B, this Seattle-based unit asserts their intent to “drink beer and play punk rock,” in that order.
Comprised of Brendan Honeycutt (guitar/vocals), Jay Barrett (bass/vocals) and Nate Oelrich (drums/backup noises), the band crafted their EP, Pretty Good in a so-called “Jamnasium” with nods toward ‘90s après-grunge darlings like Sponge and Collective Soul. Their sound is clumsily labeled as “post-pop indie emo punk rock.” Which is to say, the five tracks contained herein are a somewhat focused kitchen sink, even if the eventual press release might yearn for a snappier description. “Everytime,” the opening track, marks the first in a series of side-mouthed growlers. It flows in patterned homage to the “cock rock fusion” bravura so derided by Kurt Cobain. Yet on a plus note, this simply means that the guys keep the club vibe set to “energetic sweat” (aka Bud Light degrees Fahrenheit). Fists are pumped amidst the distillation of lyrics into their most humorously simplistic. Said differently, we’re not dodging any opium-fueled Jaberwocks with lines like “every time I hear your name / it gives me hives / just a new surprise." Nor is Pent Up! presumably gunning for a Pulitzer with such turns of phrase; at least not without a tube of hydrocortisone in tow. “Self Titled” traffics in agreeable jangle funk. And while Honeycutt sounds nothing like Andrew Wood, he effectively spans the glam-to-grunge bridge fashioned by Mother Love Bone. Light harmonies keep things interesting, especially when delving into the world of down-tuned sonic masculinity. Although “Summersong” and “Dream To Dare” follow similar playbooks – channeling either Buffalo Tom or Big Head Todd & The Monsters – the best track is saved for last. Namely, “Don’t” proffers fast moving verses with attention-getting changes in tempo. Honeycutt’s trademark vocal drag parades an added grit. Even if he’s crowing from a bunch of cocktail napkin lyrics, stuff like “the shelter in your eyes keeps me so strong” and “you’re the anchor I’ve been searching for so long” probably boasts decent odds of getting him laid. One might reasonably equate the quality of this album to its title. Pretty Good resides within the post-pejorative grunge landscape of easy metaphor and crunchy guitar. It’s sticky, like oatmeal, and the group’s brand of tight octave, utilitarian playing releases the gusto that was – wait for it – pent up(!) since first making acquaintances at a Pacific Northwest open-mic event. Alas, the boy band revolution turned this genre on its ear and spawned decades of hyper-tweaked pop. Thankfully, these guys don’t seem destined for choreographed dance, frosted tips or three button suits which is, I guess, a testament to their fervency. When someone punctuates with an exclamation point, they’re damn near looking to bring the fire. And this fuzz-and-feedback conflagration tends to burn, well, pretty good indeed.
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