Creepoid

Wet (2014)

Brian Shultz

Creepoid were certainly the black sheep on the No Idea roster when they released their agonizing and yet thoroughly enjoyable, self—titled sophomore LP this past March. Where their potentially male gaze—alluding name might have implied raucous feminist aggression, or their label's catalogic history inferred PBR—swilling bar punk on Creepoid, the band instead moaned and swayed through an excellent, versatile album that defied easy classification by adopting True Widow's dark drone and turning it on its head with more energetic and vaguely accessible shades of '90s alternative, shoegaze, and stoner styles. This four—song EP, Wet comes very quickly on its heels, issued in April for Record Store Day courtesy of Graveface, whose own lack of one distinct sound makes them an unsurprising safehouse. And while Wet doesn't feel quite as immersive or sprawling as its recent predecessor, it's a fine bonus.

There's a pretty cut—and—dry metaphor for sogginess as opener "Wet Bread" kicks things off. There's a co—ed harmony at the beginning of its chorus that's momentarily but especially reminiscent of the same in Silver Snakes' "Sundance"; if that band made more songs like that, they'd be very comfortable, similarly unclassifiable peers with Creepoid (as is, they're not far off, though). Wet picks up where Creepoid left off, essentially, and its sound is probably a little more unified and cohesive, though less varied as a result. Still, there's a mild highlight on every quarter: the soft wailing in "Wet Bread"; a pulsating crescendo that closes "Blurry Slumber" (as apt a description for their sound as could be made); the mysterious, incomprehensible mumbling of interlude—ish "Blinding Halo"; and standout "Truth", an insistent push of a closer that's as snide and brooding a four—minute Pixes moment as can be had, with co—vocalists Sean Miller and Anna Troxell louder and more emphatic than they've been the whole EP.

Wet's certainly not out—and—out as encompassing an experience as Creepoid, with less payoff as well, but it's a tidy and welcoming transition, and mostly fulfilling as a stand—alone piece.