After an eighteen year hiatus The Machismo's return with the self-released vinyl LP Share One With A Friend. Not only is this a furious record of snotty no-wave, but the band have included two copies of the record in each package. If you love their distorted post-punk, then give the second copy to someone you love. If you’re not into the noisy grooves, then give it to an enemy. Limited to 150 copies.
8/10 Robin Staff review, 05 January 2016
The Machismo’s are either altogether nice fucking people or secret millionaires, considering they’ve issued each of their 150-copies only ‘Share One With a Friend’ with an extra identical record for you to regift to a pal. Look, I’m the kind of guy who eats an entire share-bag packet of crisps in five minutes, so if I like this record I’m probably going to wear the second copy as an accessory. I am the Ebenezer Scrooge of music and salted potato snacks. What day is today? Today is not Christmas Day; you’ll get no turkey from me. Super excessive gimmicking aside, this record of groovy-guitar fuzz is definitely nice enough to own one copy of, and that’s fine: don’t go overboard.
Moving quite fluidly from emotive, late-era GbV chord sequences to a kind of indie pop sludge a la Yusuf Jerusalem, into side-eyed scuzz punk to rival Deerhunter’s ‘Monomania’, this record has many guitar rock shadows, but ultimately touts the same old ideas: lo-fi, garage, bedroom. The Machismo’s are the kind of band you want to believe are making good music by accident, shredding and thrashing and very occasionally putting together an unusual song that makes the whole thing feel weirder (take the whispery acoustic interlude, whose compressed recording sounds billowed with the sound of wind). In that sense, listening to it can be as exciting as the time you heard your first weird indie album, whether it was ‘The Glow, pt. 2’ or ‘Bee Thousand’. This one is more slight, of course, with less of the hooks that make up classic albums, but there’s something special about getting reduced into the Machismo’s world -- being compressed into its stuffy production, getting dehydrated by its shoddy beats and having your heart slowed by the meandering vocals.
The Machismo’s seem to get distracted by their acoustic influence, occasionally making something as jaunty as Fleetwood Mac but keeping their distinct weirdness in tact: on one track, lurid spoken word comes together with a joyous strumming and a desperate vocal hum, making for the kind of half-baked ballad bedroom pop was founded on. These songs aren't so much accidents as they are laboured-over redactions.
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