Bottom line is, coming out of Aussie pop’s jangled jungle, anything with Al Montfort attached is a solid bet and you know what, Terry doesn’t break that streak. Montfort’s been attached to Total Control, Dick Diver, Lower Plenty and Bitch Prefect – all of which have found their way into RSTB’s heart over the years. For Terry, Al hooks up with a few other luminaries of the Aussie underground, that scene being nothing less than incestuous and reveling in swapping members between bands at ease. The resulting record, after a few singles and whatnot, is loose and jangled, with toughskinned knees. Its roughed up and kicking in the dirt. There’s a driving sense, a pop itch that nags at your brain and finds the lobes nodding along uncontrollably. And yet they also cover their songs in a nice slash and soak of noise that keeps any jangle from getting remotely close to precious. The squelch knocks the post-punk playthings into the no-wave yard for a bit but never stays put. They sway to the jangle-pop muses but destroy what’s beautiful before you catch them playing too nicely.

For fans of any of Montfrot’s catalog, or even member Amy Hill’s tenure in Constant Mongrel there’s a lot to love here. Terry is splitting the difference between the angled scrapes of Total Control and the college-sweatered pop of Dick Diver. Terry HQ kicks hard to the shins and it doesn’t entirely play fair. Its the kind of record feels like its been sitting in a bin waiting to be discovered. It’s not of this time, but at the same time, when besides 2016 could this kind of blistered blast be so acclaimed? So for that, I’m grateful. Listen in to this tangled nest of a record and find a new weave each time. There’s a lot of ragged joy to absorb here.

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