Pissed Jeans

I know I should’ve reviewed this when it first came out, but I
needed time to let my gushing fanboy-ness settle a bit. Like, could
there be a more personally relatable album released this year? Apathy,
listlessness, workplace drudgery, male pattern baldness, the uneasy
acceptance of adulthood, the need for a good massage—real talk, yo.
Packaged in a pre-grunge-era wall of noise sludge and delivered with
that David Yao-esque howl, it drips with fury and humour. You know,
speaking of David Yao, now that Jesus Lizard has reunited I think I
would piss myself to see both bands together.