Fun holiday fact: No adult on your shopping list actually wants you to give them a gift, because they don’t have anywhere to put it. Unfortunately, we have to go on buying our loved ones things they don’t want or need this time of year so they don’t think we secretly hate them. Fortunately, if they’re music fans, they probably already have a stack of records, CDs or cassettes somewhere they can add some of these excellent recent local music releases to without overly upsetting the delicate ecosystem of stuff they’ve already established.
You can even gift a digital download if they’ve only got virtual space to spare. Of course, these albums are also available for streaming if you want to give the artists the invaluable holiday gift of .000000001 cents per play or whatever the going rate is. (Here, the word “invaluable” means “literally worthless.”)
If you reach the end of this little review roundup and think, “You forgot [insert cool local album name here],” please email editor@oklahomagazette.com, and let us know what that album is.
Chat Pile – Cool World
chatpile.bandcamp.com
For my money ($27 plus tax at Guestroom Records, 3701 N. Western Ave.), Chat Pile’s second LP is the best album of the year, locally and otherwise. Since dropping its Pitchfork-lauded full-length debut God’s Country in 2022, the band has gone from playing OKC’s 89th Street and The Sanctuary to playing OKC’s 89th Street and The Sanctuary between tours of Europe, but the wider-screen worldview is still about as bleak as you might expect from a band named for toxic mining waste — or anyone who’s even kind of paying attention. “In their parents’ arms, the kids were falling apart,” vocalist Raygun Busch describes in “Shame,” a song with a clean-sung chorus concluding, “And god remained silent,” and some of the heaviest vocals Busch has recorded to date reminding us, “All tears flow from the same source.” While God’s Country’s “Why?” asked “Why do people have to live outside when there are buildings all around us?” Cool World’s “Funny Man” simply warns “Outside there’s no mercy. … Not everyone gets to hide.” Musically, the band has never been tighter. The liner notes mention tape loops and glockenspiel, but any experimentation must’ve happened off the record, because there’s not a wasted note to be heard here; just grooves within grooves. Immaculate production from Uniform’s Ben Greenberg highlights the gift for shaping intrusive thoughts and distressing sounds into enjoyable hooks and riffs that has made this truly twisted and abrasive band into OKC’s most popular rock act since … Hinder, maybe?
stepmom – Profitopia
stepmomband.bandcamp.com
Biting satire is barely concealed beneath bright pink bubble gum on the latest EP from OKC’s self-described “orchestral dream punk band” stepmom. Opening track “Welcome to Profitopia” introduces the mini concept album, moving between menacing drones and cheery hold music while keyboardist Bailey Pelletier mimics passive-aggressive corporate-speak, her chipper tone not really bothering to mask the menacing subtext. “Embrace the Profitopia lifestyle, where your dreams are our bottom line,” Pelletier says before giving “valued employees” a “gentle reminder” that “productivity-enhancing extraction bots will commence their daily optimization routines in five minutes.” Anyone who’s been coerced into working unpaid overtime in the name of company culture can relate. “Survival Mode” details the costs humans pay for maximum productivity — the fight-or-flight anxiety, the mood-managing medication, the disassociation — that company spreadsheets never account for. The propulsive rhythm moves with the precision of Kraftwerk’s man-machine motorik while vocalist Lindsey Cox’s guitar becomes increasingly chaotic. “Heavy Lifting,” meanwhile, could be describing a bad date. “This conversation is going nowhere,” Cox complains. “I watched you suck up all of the air.” Gary Numan-esque new wave synths give way to a snarling guitar solo, and within the context of Profitopia, the song could be a metaphor for the lopsided relationship between employee and employer. The four-song EP concludes with the unexpectedly upbeat breakup anthem “Self-Destruct,” and the peppy chorus “Watch me self-destruct my life / It’s alright / Wasting no more time,” doesn’t seem ironic, especially when all the electronic effects drop out and we’re left with a few beats of the band unplugged, a little off key and laughing — humanity restored.
Lust Online – Go Outside
lustonline.bandcamp.com
Lust Online’s latest slice of dream pop is as sweet and airy as expertly whipped meringue, but there’s plenty of substance to sink your teeth into just below the silky surface. Opener “Ms. Brightside” makes a lovely case for optimism for its own sake, and if it replaced its criminally overplayed male counterpart in all instances, the world would be better for it. “Look on the bright side,” sings vocalist and synth player Maddie Razook. “Let’s try just to say we tried.” “Living through a bad thing / Loving at the right time,” begins the chorus, and the fragmentary poetry throughout the album captures the giddy feeling of young tempered just a bit by adult experience. “Night Owl” seems to celebrate the freedom decision fatigue allows for following the heart: “Let’s not take it slow / Rev it up and let’s go,” Razook sings. Guitarist Connor Schmigle breaks up his own brightly distorted Loveless leads with somewhat surprisingly aggressive drum machine programming. I’m too much of a non-musician to guess where Schmigle’s programming ends and drummer Donald James’ more human percussion begins, but both seem to be hitting hard enough to give this musical zephyr forward momentum, especially paired with bassist Lacey Elaine Dillard’s melodic grounding on lightly twangy “Prada 120” and downright danceable “Surreal Landscapes.” Some dreamers sleep restlessly.
PeelingFlesh – The G Code
uniqueleaderrecords.bandcamp.com
If the name PeelingFlesh or the band logo that’s less a collection of letters than a scabbed-over chainsaw wound didn’t cue you in, we’re back to heavy — and how! This Tulsa/OKC band commits aural assault by combining the most brutal elements of hardcore, hip-hop and death metal with record scratching and samples describing car jackings, murder and drug addiction just for good measure. The only thing more surprising than how well it all works is how much fun it is. Vocalist Damonteal Harris, who seamlessly moves between Body Count snarls and Demilich guttural growls is the obvious standout, but bassist Austin Hirom’s nearly subsonic low end and drummer Joe Pelletier’s seemingly endless supply of varied blast beats (and, oddly enough, sense of restraint) stitch it all together, and guitarists Mychal Soto and Jason Parrish shred with the savagery of the most memorable movie slashers. If the album’s 26 minutes pass too quickly, check out the Crunk Edition, slowed down to be nearly eight minutes longer. DJ Screw would probably love it.
This article appears in New Year’s Eve Guide.