It’s everyone’s favorite essay prompt - compare/contrast. We all knew it was coming, it always made our eyes collectively roll, and it allowed us to work in whatever bullshit we could come up with to support our argument. Easy A. Not that we plan to do that here, of course.
Instead, what the OGs have in store for you is thoughtful analysis. To start, Brian looks at the new album from UK-based alt-country band Brown Horse and (somehow) compares and contrasts them with both Star Wars and The Rolling Stones. Brad then previews an upcoming show from New Orleans garage rock duo Twisted Teens while comparing and contrasting their latest album with a landmark release from the early 2000s (you’ll have to read on to find out which one). Finally, Dave takes the wayback machine to revisit the first album from Scotland’s We Were Promised Jetpacks, comparing and contrasting their sonic blast of a debut with everything that followed.
Read on, enjoy, and considering that today is May the Fourth, well… you know…
New Album: Total Dive by Brown Horse. Hype is a mixed bag. It starts by ramping up excitement for an album or a movie or a TV show or a book (way back in olden-times when people on the whole got excited about books). Problem is, with hype there’s only two ways to go. Either your expectations are validated, or utter crushing disappointment. There’s no in-between. If you have no expectations, you can’t be disappointed.
Here’s an example. Remember the leadup to The Phantom Menace? The first Star Wars prequel? I was walking past the now-closed and dearly missed Uptown Theater in Washington, DC and saw the poster. Such a cool poster. Got us pumped for the film and ready to play with our dolls again. Then we finally saw the movie (several weeks after the loonies who waited on line for tickets to multiple viewings) and it sucked. No need to overanalyze, it just sucked. As did the next one, and three-quarters of the one after that. Worst. Prequels. Ever.
And therein lies the problem with hype. Instead of just being a bad movie, it was a different experience than the poster promised. The tagline for the poster should have been “here’s a bonkers, poorly written, slightly offensive, tedious start to a story that won’t give you the payoff you want for another six years and we’ll even find a way to ruin that.” Hype raised our expectations and, for some of us, affected the way we approached Star Wars – beloved from our childhoods – going forward.
(Side note: The first movie is called Star Wars. Not “A New Hope.” It’s fucking Star Wars. I saw it in theaters in 1977 and all the kids would say “I saw Star Wars” or “I wanna see Star Wars.” No one said “A New Hope.” Anyone who calls it “A New Hope” will likely also try to convince you that The Phantom Menace is actually good, so beware.)
It’s the same with music. Sometimes the album promotion cycle – singles dropped weeks or months apart, interviews in online publications, advance reviews – gets me excited for a release. In other cases, by the time an album is released I feel like I know too much and it influences my first listen. Either way, I can go into an album with expectations too high or with heightened skepticism.
Unfortunately, advance coverage led me to approach Brown Horse’s third album, Total Dive, with some skepticism and low expectations. It influenced my first listen and I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Brown Horse are a band that plays guitar-heavy alt-country, following in the tradition of other recent faves like MJ Lenderman and Wednesday, Florry, Fust, Waxahatchee and more. The difference? Instead of the South or the Midwest or the Mid-Atlantic, Brown Horse are from northeast England. Norwich, to be specific.
The band describe themselves as “slacker twang” and while these guys and gals may not hail from ‘Murica, they’re legit. After immersing myself in the album, their stated influences – Lucinda Williams, Jason Molina, The Breeders, Silver Jews – are evident. And the songs bang.
“Twisters” echoes the best of early Son Volt from its guitar hook – which manages to be both haunting and catchy – to the opening lyrics (“I like the voices on the radio / I like the feeling of changing lanes / Moonlight pooling in the backs of cars / Clothes drying on a wire fence”). “Wreck” has a dusty feel, with Patrick Turner’s and Nyle Holihan’s dueling guitars – part droning, part twangy – supported by Rowan Braham’s ethereal-sounding organ in the background and Turner singing lyrics seemingly influenced by Jay Farrar’s darker side (“Driving up to the country / Take another look around / You tell me there’s a fury in the soil / You can feel it when you touch the ground”).
“Sorrow Reigns” opens the album with crunchy riffs and storytelling reminiscent of David Berman and Patterson Hood, not to mention current fellow traveler Karly Hartzman (“There’s a girl at the piercing place / She was laughing at me ‘cause I shared a name / With a skatepark in the town where she grew up / It was pretty rough”). The mid-tempo “Hares” is extra-twangy, with the melody rising and falling, ultimately settling down at the end (“I head indoors, happy and hopeless / And fall asleep swilling words in my glass”). Similarly, the mid-tempo “Comeback Loading” also layers the twang behind appropriately moody guitar chords (“Thunder out over the edge of town / Nothing but darkness on the road behind”).
The title track meshes upbeat bar band guitar rock – a likely favorite at live shows – with extremely personal lyrics seemingly about depression and isolation (“Don’t wanna work so hard anymore / I can see the light through the cracks in the door / Laughter in the hall doesn’t bring me any joy”). “Oblivion” is very Jason Molina-coded, both in its melody and its lyrical content (“With all the space junk, now turned to dust / Yeah that could have been us, all burned up”). “Watching Something Burn Up” closes out the album by alternating between mellow twang and grand conclusion (“I’m not aiming any words at anyone / I’m just speaking while it comes to me”).
When I first heard “alt-country band from England” I immediately thought all the wrong things. I thought “English group jumping on American indie rock trend.” I asked myself whether this is 2020 alt-country’s Candlebox moment. I was wrong for thinking and asking all of this (and I immediately regret and apologize for invoking the lazy Candlebox reference). Because you know who else was an English band that loved and was influenced by very American rock sounds and traditions? The fucking Rolling Stones, that’s who.
I’m not saying Brown Horse are The Rolling Stones, and I have a feeling they wouldn’t either. But this gets me back to the related concepts of hype and expectations. My pre-existing notions stemming from the promotional hype surrounding this band had me first listening to Total Dive expecting a co-opting of an established sound. Wrong. On the other hand, if I had gone in expecting the second coming of the Stones (or Uncle Tupelo or Magnolia Electric Co.) that too would have resulted in unfair expectations and colored my listening experience. In one sense the hype is the problem, but the real problem is how I received and interpreted the hype.
What I am saying is that Brown Horse are a great young band. Total Dive is a fantastic addition to the alt-country canon (and having gone back and listened to their previous work, 2025’s All the Right Weaknesses – which somehow slipped past me – is a banger too). Listening with fresh ears and an open mind allowed me to really hear the depth, versatility, and sincerity in Brown Horse’s music. They are a band capable of crafting songs with edge, heart, darkness, or spirit.
“Slacker twang” is one of the best concise band descriptions I’ve ever read. It is both wholly accurate and yet insufficient in describing all the things Brown Horse does well. (Brian)
Album from an upcoming/recent show: Blame the Clown by Twisted Teens. Twenty-five years ago, an 11-track album clocking in at just over 30 minutes was hailed as the record that would save rock and roll. Or one of them, anyway. The band had generated buzz with its live shows in New York and an early EP, but for most of the country and world, the band came out of nowhere. The album featured incredible hooks/riffs, relatively straightforward lyrics on pretty standard subjects for rock music, strong vocals, and a band, especially on bass, that came together seamlessly while also making it clear they could play. The original album cover was alluring and, for the time, potentially racy; so much so that we innocent children here in America got a different version.
Over the last few months, we’ve heard a lot about another 11 track, 30-ish minute (technically there’s a 12th track called “corpse pose” but it’s one minute of noise, so I’m going to ignore it) record that came more or less out of nowhere and appears to some people to be another round of the band that will save rock and roll. It’s received rave reviews across the board and even “Best New Music” from Pitchfork, which rarely doles out that label to garage rock records. Like its predecessor, the hooks are all over the place, the music is straight-ahead in feeling and approach but not at all simple (in this case, there’s also pedal steel, perhaps playing a bit into the alt-country revival of the moment), the vocals are rougher but convincing. The topics of the songs are perhaps a little less conventional but the lyrics somehow fit what the songs need.
Will this new band, called Twisted Teens from New Orleans of all places (of course a musical hotbed, just not so much historically for garage rock), be able to live up to their predecessors? Twisted Teens are a duo, who bring in help, and certainly there was another duo kicking around in the early 2000s that I might have had in mind. But in this case, the 2001 record I am channeling is none other than Is This It by The Strokes.
I will refrain from a track-by-track, side-by-side comparison, but there are some intriguing parallels in a few tracks that I’ll draw out. The Strokes record begins with its title track, Is This It? The song is more mid-tempo than most of the rest of the album, is driven in large part by a dominant bass line, and Julian Casablancas’ vocals are more subdued. It’s a slow build, with the lyrics centered around the potential end of a relationship and the protagonist sneaking his way into her apartment, but it’s also not clear if he even knows why. Is he just there because that’s what he thinks he’s supposed to do?
In 2001, a lot of us were also asking this question — Is This It? — more generally. After the build-up to Y2K, when nothing happened, and so much hype overall for the onset of the 21st century, instead we had the beginning of a Bush Administration that seemed intent on taking things backward (sound familiar?) And then here comes a much-hyped album that was supposed to be released in the United States on 9/11 (it was out in other parts of the world earlier), has to be pulled (in part because it had a song called “NYC Cops” that was not exactly praiseworthy), and comes out a few weeks later. When indeed, many of us were asking that again and again and again.
So, too, do Twisted Teens open their album Blame the Clown with a question, one very much on the mind of many humans in 2026: Is It Real? In this case, the song is certainly more up-tempo and singer and main songwriter and instrumentalist Caspian Hollywell jumps straight in, offsetting the question with lyrics that set this album in the lane of those questioning how we’ve ended up where we are. Although he’s not asking directly about AI and deepfakes, the societal questions he poses certainly set those up: “Is it real?/All the things that they’re telling me live in my head/Is it real?/Cuz they like to lock ya up and put ya on meds.” The pedal steel, which appears on many of the tracks, provides an emotional grounding that The Strokes found more in the way they worked together as a band. In both cases, the foundational question of the opening track animates the entire album.
On “Modern Age,” the second track of Is This It, Julian Casablancas wants out, and this time he’s clear about it. He wants to “stop pretendin’” and asks for this relationship, or whatever it is, to end: “Oh, in the sun, sun havin’ fun, it’s in my blood/I just can’t help it/Don’t want you here right now/Let me go.” The vocals maintain that largely-removed and above-it-all cool (they’ll start to get more urgent on Track 3, “Soma”), but the music has both picked up in its energy and taken on more of a garage tone to it. Similarly, Track 2 of Blame the Clown, called “Wild Connection” finds our hero letting his girlfriend, or perhaps ex-girlfriend, know that he’s moving on. With her friend. “Looks like me and your friend we got a wild connection/And i’m sorry that you have to see her walk in my direction.” And he’s not entirely apologetic: “People likе shiny things/But your diamond doesn’t gleam/You’re dullеr than a woolen mallet.” The tone of the track is similar to the opener, starting with a focus on the drums and then rooting in garage tones and feel. Hollywell can’t quite mimic Casablancas, but he sure sounds like he’s having fun trying.
Over next few tracks, things diverge. I’m not entirely sure what “Soma” is about, though there are themes of escape from reality and likely drug usage: “Soma is what they would take when/Hard times opened their eyes/Saw pain in a new way;” over on “Blame the Clown,” we have “I Operate,” which is an anti-circumcision missive. Regardless of your view on the practice, it’s hard not to laugh at this scene (or get it out of your mind): “I was 10 years old when they circumcised me in a car goin’ downtown/Flew right out the window and hit a woman who was wearing only a nightgown.”
Tracks 5 (“100 Bill Is Gone”) and 6 (“Peekaboo Hand”) on Blame the Clown are two of the album’s keepers for me, with the first bemoaning the challenges of navigating an expensive world and the second more of a country blues rag that is just incredibly catchy. Then we get to Track 7, the last of each record I’ll compare.
For The Strokes, Track 7 is the most streamed song and probably the biggest hit, “Last Nite.” The song is instantly catchy, with an incredible hook and energy that has a propulsion unlike any other song on the record. Coming just past halfway through, it’s the bolt of energy needed to get to the end, and again, it’s rooted in a relationship on the rocks, people moving in different directions, ones that they themselves aren’t sure of. They’re living in the moment, and unlike, say, their predecessors of the 80s and 90s, mostly conscious of how unsatisfying that is. “Last Nite” is, like most of the tracks on the album, saying, in essence, “I guess this is it, and I wish there was something else. But I don’t know what that is so I’ll just keep seeing where this takes me.” Which was about where many of us were in 2001.
For Twisted Teens, Track 7 is, in a way, where they answer their opening question with a pretty clear answer: “Not Real.” Hollywell is doing more speaking than singing as he lays it all out: “There’s a punishment for being honest/With yourself/Or with the others/Made to mask at an early age/Repress all expressions of rage/You’ll become automatically compliant/And you’ll get a diagnosis if you fight.” It’s a painful and somewhat brutal response to the opening question, but like with The Strokes, it feels honest to the time. It’s hard out there these days, and just pretending it’s all going to be fine, that this is it, seems wrong. Hollywell advises the listener to “Trust your gut/Not your heart/Because these ghosts want to take it apart.” And yeah, that is about where many of us are in 2026.
Will Twisted Teens be the saviors of garage rock? Will they manage the 25-year career that The Strokes have had, along with their many side projects? Of course, who can tell? Many purported rock saviors have come and gone after one or even two remarkable albums. But Twisted Teens are certainly putting in their application to be, if not the biggest band in the world, one of the most exciting and energizing. And like any great band born from the garage, very direct and honest.
As I mentioned, the legend of The Strokes was driven in large part by their early live shows. If you’re lucky enough to have a ticket to Comet Ping Pong in DC on Wednesday May 6, you can decide whether Twisted Teens have what it takes to match their predecessors on stage. Let us know - sadly, none of us were lucky enough to snag tickets. (Brad)
Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): These Four Walls by We Were Promised Jetpacks. If you ask my wife what type of music I listen to, she will, without hesitation, say “tuneless British men.” I don’t remember whether We Were Promised Jetpacks was the original band that spawned this dubious genre designation, but they would certainly show bright on the heat map. The four musicians had been playing together since high school and were all around 20 years old, Uni students in Glasgow, when this debut LP released in 2009. Youthful energy drives the album forward, but it is tempered at times with surprising maturity and sophisticated control of dynamics. The band’s brilliance is in deftly controlling the ebb and flow of energy and volume. Many songs start with a simple two-note tremolo or strummed chords, then other instruments join and gradually build intensity to a crashing crescendo. Singer Adam Thompson’s vocals are strong in the mix, aiming for energy and urgency over precision and polish, and his performance adds a visceral element to the loud sections. You really can’t resist shouting along with him in your worst Scottish brogue.
But there are also quiet moments that let the spaces between notes do some work. Even the uptempo tunes (almost all of them, really - drummer Darren Lackie seems to push the band faster and faster as each song goes along) get a chance to stretch out, breathe, and explore some possibilities. Urgently strummed dissonant chords resolve briefly before charging into new sonic territory. Chiming guitars trade licks, and an occasional glockenspiel plays off the driving bass and barely-in-control beats to give a dualistic, heaven-and-earth atmosphere. Long, wandering sections allow the guitars to experiment with a phrase, making small changes each time to tug slightly different meaning from it. Sections repeat with a subtle shift from a thumping steady beat to a galloping rhythm that gives it a whole different feel.
I haven’t highlighted any single tracks, because this album deserves to be heard as a whole, in one sitting. The programming of this album is another way the band shows maturity beyond expectations for a debut written by teenagers. “It’s Thunder and It’s Lightning” starts with a spare arrangement, but by the end is channeling manic energy that carries through the quick and intense “Ships with Holes Will Sink.” Then “Roll up Your Sleeves” picks up with quick, frantic strumming but the second half subsides to a gentle but brisk flow, like a rushing stream coming to a wide flat valley, with the repeated refrain of “Stay calm.” This is the transition to a set of three slower, quieter songs, then again the shift back to primal energy comes mid-song, during “This is My House, This is My Home.” This last burst maintains through the next 3 songs, finally exhausting itself and stepping aside for the final two pensive, quiet tunes.
The cyclic nature of the dynamics on the album always put me in mind of a life cycle. And, although Thompson has insisted that lyrics were an afterthought that he added later by “mumbling anything to get the song done,” they reinforce this imagery by making references to experience from all different stages of life. Early songs capture youthful outings (”Right foot/Followed by your left foot/Will guide you home before your curfew/And into your bed”), and feeling simultaneously inadequate and defiantly determined (”Can’t even sing for words, you know I’m far too shameful/Ships with holes will sink and I will swim”). Then, an acknowledgement that hard work and patience are valuable (”Roll up your sleeves/We’re heading for winter I know/the nights will get colder....it’s slower/but I can wait this out”). Reckoning with repressed trauma (”something happened in the attic/there’s no way I am going up there”) and self-doubt (”Quiet little voices creep into my head/I’m young again”), and learning to compromise in a relationship (”I take a little you/and you take a little me”) reflect a maturing adult. Then, perhaps, a decline, or midlife attempt to recapture youthful vigor by starting a bar fight, in “Short bursts” (”You looked at me/My blood went cold/You said come on/Who cares, be bold/We’ll leave before our blood will hit the floor”). In the closing two songs we get “The chances of being born/are so slim/so keep warm, keep warm”) - a shockingly tender sentiment from a teen songwriter, and worthy of a new parent - and a man looking back with regret at losing a relationship due to his own actions (”When I lost my throne/To a successor/With far more expansive plans/Than I ever did/I abdicated”). It’s an uncharacteristically vulnerable song that fades out the album with a repeated forlorn “I want to stay here.”
Sadly, Thompson and his mates didn’t get to “stay here.” WWPJ never managed to re-bottle the lightning of These Four Walls. The follow-up, In The Pit of the Stomach, went in for a heavier sound (no glockenspiel!), trading in urgency for power, and losing the exploratory wandering and evocative buildups and ebbs of These Four Walls. There’s a few worthy songs there, but only “Sore Thumb” captures the subtlety and dynamics of the best from These Four Walls. Unravelling from 2014, is bland and mid-tempo, and a bit complacent, perhaps continuing the allegory of a lifespan, as the band entered mid-life and became uninspired. It was poorly received and led to 2018’s The More I Sleep the Less I Dream being marketed as “going back to the heart of who they are.” Listeners weren’t convinced, and guitarist Michael Palmer left the band in 2019, leaving WWPJ to continue as a 3-piece for their Covid-era album Enjoy the View. It added synths and continued the tamer, more polished, even-keeled approach, failing to reclaim the crown of indie guitar rock.
Maybe it isn’t possible, or even healthy, to maintain a 20-year music career carried by raw energy, but if your only exposure to WWPJ is from these later singles (”Fat Chance” and “If it Happens”) and they fell flat for you, then I highly recommend revisiting their debut album, These Four Walls. It’s one of my favorite records of the 2000s. (Dave)
