Street Fruit

One of 2025’s buried treasures, the sophomore album from L.A. garage-psych slingers Street Fruit hits the senses with an immersion into the sticky sleaze of the early aughts’ best. The band hearkens back to a time when glossy mags were breathlessly lapping at one another to be the first declare a return to rock, wiping the stain of TRL tough boys from the airwaves. There’s a much deeper well being tapped by Street Fruit than a scan of millennium-era cover stories suggests, though. The band opens up with the slinking, sweaty “Drug Face,” a cut caught in the steam emanating from the pores under the clammy cold of street lights. It’s the kind of song that might have sparred with The Warlocks for a spot in the lineup for a Shout! night.

From the dizzying high of the opener, the band tumbles through several other shades and shadows cast by regulars of the legendary NYC nightlife and DJ scene; toughening up their take for “Back of the Line,” a cut that’s lets the blood soak into the leather and set. They corral the sinewy singe of Jonathan Fire*Eater, the patient ambiance of The Secret Machines, and the hungry stare of B.M.R.C.’s “Screaming Gun”-era. The humid heaters set the tone, but the band have a more slippery sound than the singles let on. As the album progresses, they prove equally adept at letting the heat settle into a proper simmer, stretching out tender n’ tough ballads that always feel about ready to rip but keep the seams just slightly sutured. The dynamic stretch of the album winds up its biggest asset, never settling into rock or repose for too long. There’s been a bounty of psych-pop in the last few years, but few bands that feel like they’re hitting the grit and grease the way that keep Street Fruit under your skin. Don’t let Strange Tanks slip by untouched.

Support the artist. Buy it https://streetfruit.bandcamp.com/album/strange-tanks-2.