Comfortable. It’s hard to believe a band that plays crunching power popping riffs and sings about the type of love and fears we obsess about as adolescents can be comfortable, but that’s exactly why Camp Radio is so important to me. They’re the pair of kicks that I reach for every time I leave the house. They’re the band t-shirt I keep year after year, because of the memories attached to each hole or stain.
What often gets lost in the shuffle is there are two ways to search for new music. The first, and most obvious, is to stumble on the newest bands playing the hottest sounds. Sadly, most of the new genres — I’m looking at you witch house, dub step, however you want to describe anything that sounds like Animal Collective — leave me flat. That’s why I mine the depths hoping to find bands writing new songs that I could have discovered on The Wedge. I don’t want to forget everything I love about the punch of a three piece that refuses to mask melody or emotion adding layer after layer. I don’t want to forget why I love Dinosaur Jr. or GBV. I certainly don’t want to forget how good sugary harmonies sound when they soar over eardrum shattering, face melting guitar and ribcage crushing bass and drums.
You can keep your campy, R&B retreads and your white guy soul music. You can keep your flossing hyper raps. Truth be told, you can even keep your new found love of John & June records and pleasant pedal steel. All they do is make me feel old. For thirty-two minutes Campista Socialista lets me feel young again. I don’t sit around dreaming about high school, girls and drinking beers behind the school; those days are gone (and the nostalgia attached to them isn’t seen through any rose colored glass). I have a mortgage and a family that I hate and love, respectively, more than I thought possible but neither makes me forget how much of myself I discovered listening to music and going to shows.
I think that’s why I connect with Camp Radio. The trio isn’t trying to cash in on some indie rock revival. They’ve loved the same sound for years, grew up with it, stayed loyal to it, and are just trying to perfect those chords and harmonies. Sonic similarities aside, this record couldn’t have come out in the late 90s. It’s taken years of jamming in garages, touring in vans and having your heart broken for Chris, Scott and Dave to get here. They’re no different than you or me in that sense; they’re just sound tracking the whole fucking thing for us.
Pre-order Campista Socialista now and get a free download of “Slack.”