Wurld Series descend on a brand of ‘90s indie that hits like a wave of nostalgia, but rather than simply wink and nod their way through What’s Growing, they collage the college rock staples in a way that feels lived-in and loose. While the Christchurch band might have a bit more Pavement than Bats in their bones, they find the connective tissue between their home country heroes and US indie — duct taping spinout riffs from the Chavez and Superchunk lineage with the bare honesty of Tall Dwarfs and The 3Ds. Yet, they shrug off the easy comparisons as the album wears on, digging into strains of stripped, wobbly folk that might have found its way into the John Peel replay pile.
The band’s wry delivery does little to dissuade the connection with a generation built balancing authenticity with aloofness. While the band doesn’t necessarily come from the same flopped flats of the slack indie set that’s crowding their neighbors next door, they find themselves working through many of the same ground down jobs, bullshit authoritarians, and daily punishers that seem to populate their songs. Wurld Series bat ‘em around a bit more than their Aussie peers, slapping back with amp squelch and a fuzzed knuckle pop punch that packs an earworm or two in tow.
The band’s singles leading up to the new album framed a band that was listening and working the angles of their influences and the final result has found all the necessary nooks that made it impossible to jettison many of our foundational albums from rotation. With Brian Feary (Salad Boys, Dance Asthmatics) in the producer’s chair, the band emerged from their early itch to knock out a slacker classic that’s looking for a slot in that eternal case logic under the bed, ready to be found time and again and always thrown on one more time for good measure.
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