I don’t remember the first time I heard something by The Frights, but I’m fairly certain it happened during a Pandora session where FIDLAR brought me to what would ultimately become one of my favorite bands in college.
The Frights’ first releases were impeccable. The Dead Beach and Fur Sure EPs slap. Their debut self-titled album slaps. There’s not a bad song among the bunch, and while there are plenty of other surf-y punk-y indie rock bands out there, none of them have ever quite tickled my fancy the way The Frights do.
Those first three releases have been my road trip music, my cruising music, my driving real fast music. They’ve been my homework music and my work music and my “bro you’ve gotta listen to this band” music. They have also blessedly been my “get real drunk and get rekt in a mosh pit” band.
As with many of the surf-y punk-y indie rock bands I’ve found over the years, though, I tend to stick with those earliest releases, which are a little more raw and unrefined. I like the lo-fi aspect of the music; it’s why I got into bands like The Frights and Twin Peaks in the first place. So, while the later releases are fine, they’re also very refined. I don’t want my music to sound like it got all polished up in a recording studio. I want a bunch of angry dudes yelling about stuff in their garage. (And this goes for just about every band I listen to, as I know I’ve mentioned before.) Is that too much to ask?
Thankfully, I live in the 21st century, which means all the oldies-but-goodies are always at the tips of my fingers, and I can conveniently forget that anything else got released.