“Hey dad, what’s that over there?” “Not a comet, I tell you what”
Or so goes the fake origin story I just made up right now of Notta Comet (now Notta Comet 3, without Galen) who guess what, have a new single called Venice Beach b/w Home. Spoiler alert! It’s good.
Lol I’ve totally forgotten how to write so this is the thing where I say “ok, a joke about The Age of Reason and the number of types of canned tomatoes there are at Segall’s” and you kinda fill it in from there:
Like best witches, a p good band from Chicago
Spoken word (“this is the part of the song where I tell a story about…”)
Lung-stuff, edit: deeeep lung-stuff
“You bring the p-funk. No cops”
Less math-y then I expected (“chugga-chugga-chugga STOP chugga-chugga, one more time” says Mr. Guitar)
“Home” has more of the canned and condensed sprawl expected of Montreal mathcore jazzcore nerds, stacked to the f-in’ roster with little bits of in-joke confetti. Nervous hiccough vocals, like a shocked statesman (immediate reference point is Pops from “Regular Show,” duh) quckly become Vincent Price invocations of male-wail freakouts in between cooed anti-harmonies. . I half-expected “dada” chanting halfway through “Home,” but it’s groggy-excited doo-wop instead which is really just as well. In just two songs, Venice condenses the great time Montreal post-hardcore is having right now, like just a lot of fun. Even though I’m in New Jersey in a gross robe, definite long-distance love-affair via Notta Comet. Postcard says, “wish u were here,” return to VENICE BEACH comma HOME.