Eel Men

I’ve always been a sucker for a punk-dented British band; the kind that you know have cut their teeth pulling, Wire, and Buzzcocks covers, only to emerge with a more modern version of classic snarl on their own. While they might have been a bit overlooked on this side of the Atlantic, London’s Eel Men push aside chasing BBC sounds du jour for a serrated punk pummel that feels indebted to the spittle and sliced riffs of the ‘70s class. With more in common with the current crushers out of the Aussie punk enclaves than most of their UK contemporaries, Eel Men level their riffs with tightly wound precision and a few drip-dried synths that wouldn’t feel out of place on an Eddy Current or Smarts record.

Like the latter two Aussie exports, they often leave the harmonies for the power poppers, slinging choruses with the precision of a paper cut. They occasionally slip a little softness in, turning on those Buzzcocks charms on early single “Sore Eyes,” but the band is at its best when the aloofness is amplified, sanding down the sunshine in favor of a more poisoned pout. They spar guitar slashes and with an undeniably lived-in cool. They’re the kind of band that knows the best punk needs enough slink in the rhythm section to move bodies around the sweat-drenched room. Yet, even with a few classic credentials, some stone faced delivery, and garrot-wired riffs, the band still finds enough humor to close things out with a song called “Stir The Béchamel.” There are, admittedly, a lot of familiar finds among the ten tracks on Eel Men’s debut, but the band has the sense to keep the cream and chuck the curds. Just what you need for a hint of nostalgia without having to become the adult who can’t seem to move past the binder of high school singles on repeat.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.