Surfbort’s 'Keep on Truckin’': A Weird, New, and Awesome Record

 

Straight up: Surfbort's latest LP Keep on Truckin' is a galore of odd, funny, and droning lyricism floored atop of a congestion of deep guitar riffs and distant drum-blows. Entrenched in this weird record is a merit of cautious technique and buzzing infection. Like an ear-bug, Keep on Truckin' nestles itself in your ears and fucks shit up.

The Brooklyn-based band has been kicking and screaming since 2015, with only a few projects under their belt. With a love for abrasive tones and out-of-the-box ideas, there's nothing quite like Surfbort out there. Why? It just fits with the punk-nose face of this band.

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Even in Keep on Truckin's track-list, titles like "Dicks in Space" and "White Claw Enema Bong Hit," which could easily come across as surface-level edge if plastered on any punkish record, only extend another layer of Surfbort's character. With twelve tracks composing a thirty minute runtime, Surfbort presents a tight-knit record that is unparalleled. It's simultaneously angsty, funny, hard, and miserable in all the right ways.

The methodical introduction, and gradual deconstruction, of “FML” leads to a chain of some-what standard tracks: “Hollywood Trashpile” and “Big Star.” Quickly, every notion of “standard” flies out the window. “White Claw Enema Bong Hit” is the turning point that peers into what Surfbort is all about: absurd drug-phased thoughts expressed in bursts of agony and crooning.

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Going forward, the tracks only become more direct and unique. “Life’s a Joke” and “Killed by Food” tackle on pervasive topics, with the latter being just as the title suggests it to. Yet, it’s these intervals from the common punk beats that Keep on Truckin’ excels in. My personal favorite, and most whiplash-inducing, was the beginning and ending bridges of “Youth Group Therapy,” which even after a tenth listen, still odds me out. And that’s great.

All this to say that Surfbort’s Keep on Truckin’ will be divisive (no more than the entire band itself). If you’re predisposed to more weird and in-your-face punk, the rawness of this record will rock your world. So why the hell are you still reading this? Go listen now.


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Words by Justin Cervantes

Photos by James Duran