Crazy Aussie punks at their finest. Sounding like a perhaps more cheery Wavves, Dune Rats make upbeat, powerful and seductive surfer rock tracks. They make you feel like you’re living the dream. And isn't that just the best? Get in on their debut self-titled, recorded after 4 years of nonstop high-voltage touring, and live it!
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Ian calls them a stoner Supergrass. To me they sound like the Vines as children’s TV presenters who get fired for talking about drugs. Laurie just popped his head in to say he likes the opening track, which features the lyrics “marijuana, marijuana, marijuana!” ad nauseum. You can’t ask for more than that, in his case. Regardless, Dune Rats are skate punk sick ones, firing out quickfire songs by the way of the Ramones’ favourite chords and a bunch of garage punk throwback. They’re fast, funny and there’s a song called “E.T.”; let the good vibrations and knee wounds roll.
These songs are simple as fuck and produced in an intoxicated haze that makes them blast by, one by one -- the lyrics are as repetitive as Best Coast, but they’re pummelled through, like Japandroids screaming and joining in with each other as they fall off bikes and punch the windows off cars. There are occasionally some honest to god riffs, like the one that magically appears in the bridge to “Home’Sick”, to complement all the gentle, nasal humming.
Get this formula steady for twelve songs and you’ve got the perfect accompaniment to the thawing of winter into the springing of spring: an album to roll around on hillsides to and break your nose with, with choruses that’ll have maximum beer spilling potential at live shows. Good chords, slapdash drumming and those Beach Boys harmonies we like to pretend every band has. Gruff punk will never die.
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