On Crowd Can Talk / Dressed in Trenches, Lifeguard lug a first-rate house show to the studio

And what a gap it is; failed keg-stands and business-major moshpits must give way to a level of professional technique most of their peers play live shows to systemically avoid. The result of all this pent-up energy is a steam explosion of a punk record: viscerally searing yet lacking structure and form.

Being that it is two different EPs recorded nearly a year apart, the level of skill applied to the performances varies between each side, with the latter Dressed in Trenches having near universally tighter play between the trio. However, what Lifeguard lacks in methodology beyond the shred of distorted white noise they compensate for with groovy viscera. If the virtue of a basement band is their ability to keep the crowd moving, then this record captures every tool in the kit that makes it happen.

This is not without its misgivings, as “I Know I Know” is a prime example of occasionally sloppy interplay leading to a groove that feels initially undefined and difficult to gauge. These moments are peppered into the tracklist as if tremors from an earthquake would shake the room during each recording and cause drummer Isaac Lowenstein to miss a beat. When these moments of variable proficiency would arise, they felt more mistaken and drunken than subversive, at once adding the to keg-rock aesthetic yet tanking the good faith each track is taken on.

This faith is vital when approaching the twin six-minute tracks on each side of the record, as the grooves sputter away under electric stress. Being unsure over what moments are ‘character’ and which are their character as musicians can make longer tracks a chore, however, riffs strike and tag in their successors with such confidence, any moment of doubt is lost in the haze. Foremost, this is a record of time and place rather than tunes and pace. The £10 ticket may be hard to come by these days, so they’re bringing their set to the listener crowd-free.

Standouts “17-18 Lovesong” and “New Age (I’ve got a)” boast solid structures and hooks above the rumbling mayhem, but they are no Dope Body – yesteryear’s undisputed kings of the elevated house party. What Lifeguard must learn to catch up is that releasing an album to mimic your live material is missing the point of a studio recording; these songs feel as if they only exist as a reference for performances, rather than for their own good. Not to mention that the point of a house show is missed if I am forced to put the record on in a crowded metro just to imitate the feeling of getting thrown around in a drunken haze before work.