Motorists 
Been watching this band develop over the last few years, and with every new album the group turns the dial on their deep love of the roots of the indie landscape. The first album was steeped in the angles and itch of ‘70s stalwarts like Television and The Feelies. It set the tone and let the band explore the edges of early punk and New Wave. The hackles of that album fell away quickly as their second record took shape; a bright, ebullient swerve through the power pop outlands that brought hooks in towering waves. For their third, the band connects with Chris Cohen in the producer’s chair. With his help, the band finds the balance between their early poles. The new record is rife with hooks, but not averse to tension and torsion, scratching at the listener with a splintered soul before soothing them with just a taste of those power pop charms.
The band never quite reaches the ecstatic pitch of “Phone Booth in the Desert of the Mind,” but they’re still chewing on candy corners with “The Damage” and the curdled New Wave of “Diogenes.” The jangles that were part and parcel of their debut return as well, extending a few of the Feelies shadows that hung over their early days. All in all, they’re not retreading their past roads, but paving a way forward, turning inner turbulence and insecurities into indelible hooks that hold on tight. Cohen has sanded a few of the band’s big swings, and I’ll admit I loved it a little more unbuckled, but here they sound ready for the bump to bigger things. The band remains criminally underrated. They’re pop purveyors outpacing many of their peers. So, here’s hoping that the world starts to sink their teeth into Never Sing Alone.