Weak Signal

Over the last few years Weak Signal have steadily established themselves as one of the best NYC bands. An alley-hardened trio who suture ‘70s punk austerity to the bone-dry bash of the ‘90s in a way that most bands could only hope to accomplish. They’re the soul of the underbelly — turning the everyday into bruised brilliance and tattooing it onto the subconscious. Every song out of the Signal feels like it’s been a canon classic since college radio spilled out of dorms and onto the roster of every label lookin’. The band’s had an untouchable run over the past few years, but with Fine they’ve let loose their best set yet, a definitive statement that wrings the bar rag straight into the veins.

The record’s hung on some of the band’s best hooks — rusted and ragged, but soaked in dopamine delight. Weak Signal slide through the street grease and construction dust that sill pool in the corners of a city under siege by developers bent on sanding the last jagged corners. The Signal serves as a reminder of what once was, and to an extent, what will always be. The City needs a band bold enough to chew the sinew out of a song, to carve characters out of cigarette ash. Fine does all this and more, but it also serves some of the band’s most tender moments, soaking up late summer breezes on “Baby” and letting sighs set themselves in magnetic tape on “Terá Tera.”

While the break is welcomed, the band’s at their best when chewing tin and turbulence, something in no short supply on Fine. If you’ve spent the last few years sleeping on Weak Signal, there’s no better time to let the rumble and fuzz sink into the skin than with Fine.

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