Austin’s the Naked Tungs crush the indie rock
fastball into the upper deck. The male/female vocal dichotomy and sugary licks
and riffs recall forebears like Juliana Hatfield and Imperial Teen. I dug around
a pile of CDs after listening to Distract
Myself and pulled out a couple and remembered what it was like rummaging
around record stores in 1995 and 1996. The internet was for choad-pokers back
then – we were collectors! Physical media was required even if it was heavily
distorted or angered power pop. It was earnest. It felt eternal.
Even when we were like, “Do we really need these
encoded plastic discs?,” it felt like torture to get rid of anything. I hope
you don’t get rid of the Naked Tungs’s Distract
Myself. It may take you back twenty years from now to now, which will
inevitably remind you of twenty years ago, from now. The Naked Tungs warp that
space-time continuum, they just do. With their licks and their riffs and their
distortion and the male/female vocal dichotomy. It’s like a different time,
constantly.
--Ryan
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