COMADRE: Self-titled: LP

Jun 13, 2014

With a pledge to DIY and a considerable distance from their screamo upbringing, Comadre brings us their swan song—and it’s a doozy. It’s difficult to appreciate the evolution without acknowledging the scrappy sincerity of The Youth and the frantic appeal of Burn Your Bones. But since A Wolf Ticket, Comadre has ventured towards more varied melody, ranging from pop lead guitar to trebly hardcore. Evolution without the loss of authenticity is a colossal task. (Recall all the bands that have forfeited their ties to engaging punk music because of major labels, the pursuit of image, or straight up bad decisions.) Thankfully, this LP is a glowing example. The slickly produced tapestry of bass-driven verses complemented by keys, horns, murmured vocals, and acoustic guitars is equally as hard-hitting as any of their previous outings. The keyboard-driven “Summercide” should be audible mush, but all the elements gel creating a pogo-inducing, hair-whipping jam. Furthermore, “Binge” sounds like The Smiths while retaining Juan’s throat-tearing vocals, “Date Night” oozes spaghetti western vibes, and “The Moon” is a sore throat ballad. With an almost ten year history, this final LP is a fitting bookend; it’s uncompromising like every great punk record. A contemporary classic. 

 –Sean Arenas (Vitriol)

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