785-749-7676
Weekend makes sonic aggression palatable. A cursory listen of the San Francisco trio's debut LP, Sports, makes clear that the band has studied its Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine. But retro-rock it ain't. The record is part barn-storming post-punk, part shoegaze and part ambient swill — full of detachment, bone-crushing beats, buried vocals and serrated guitar work. Epic tracks such as "Coma Summer" and "Youth Haunts" establish the band's melodic talent amid squalls of bloodthirsty noise, while other songs showcase the band's focused, monochromatic sound. Weekend may seem like another sucker band replicating a genre that hit its apex in 1991, but the band's reckless energy and incredible command of dynamics say otherwise. Forgive its awful name, and in return, Weekend gives you nothing but pure audio bliss.
