Nouns

Scenes are all well and good – convenient for journalists because they offer a licence to group numerous acts under a given heading, and like manna from heaven for fledgling bands in need of exposure – but they can sometimes also be misleading. Whether we are talking about Glasgow in the nineties, Montréal in the noughties or today’s burgeoning L.A. underground scene, there will always be the temptation to assume that bands who share the same postcode will also share a particular sound. And so it is that the warm, fuzzy punk of L.A. two-piece No Age has found itself lumped together with the unhinged shout-rock of neighbours The Mae Shi and the frenetic adventures in noise undertaken by HEALTH.

Ethos and geography aside, however, the truth is that No Age have little in common with either of these compatriots. Formed from the ashes of hardcore outfit Wives and seemingly driven by a desire to rip up the D.I.Y. punk rulebook in favour of writing songs they themselves would want to listen to, Dean Spunt (drums/vocals) and Randy Randall (guitar) craft exuberant, gung-ho blasts of surf-tinged noise that are frequently as catchy as they are concise. Indeed, there is a youthful earnestness to much of Nouns that convinces the listener that this pair are not just another haircut-and-tee-shirt combo; the odds are that these guys actually mean it.

And rather than staying within the confines of alt. punk – or whatever it’s called this week – the pair’s willingness to push boundaries and confound expectations is what elevates Nouns above the chasing pack. Whether flaunting their pop sensibilities on the likes of ‘Sleeper Hold’ and the urgently melodic ‘Teen Creeps’ or taking ambient left-turns into altogether darker territory reminiscent of Deerhunter (‘Impossible Bouquet’ and stomping lead track ‘Miner’), there is a giddy element of surprise throughout that ensures repeated listening. And as mission statements go, the bruised fury of album closer ‘Brain Burner’ is mightily impressive. Raised aloft by balls-out drums and a sped-up cascading riff borrowed from Husker Du’s Zen Arcade, there’s almost a sense of injustice when it comes crashing to a halt just shy of the two-minute mark. One of this year’s finest outings to date.