Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
Plaiins are not a subtle band. Their commentary on “politics, inequality, heartbreak, and mental health” is less a nuanced examination and more like hitting the listener round the head with a brick. The multicultural trio won’t be the band you listen to if you want to stroke your beard (metaphorical or real, depending on your facial hair preferences) and ponder deeply about what they really mean in their songs – you’ll know immediately. ‘Puppet’ is the neon, spray-paint slash across the face of the scene and it demands either admiration or outrage.
There’s a sherbet, ‘Chelsea Dagger’ singalong static crackling around the edges of this EP. Whatever substance powers Howlin’ Pelle is being intravenously absorbed by vocalist Chris Reardon before being charismatically and explosively expelled on tracks like ‘WOOHAA! (speak easy)’. The only drawback to their hyper-real, late night punk style is when they try and act seriously on tracks like ‘Polidicks’, their sneering narrator comes across as an edgelord, the kind of guy who says “well, actually…” after a point is sincerely made. But then they win you back as easily as they lost you with their melodic plea to “meet me halfway” on ‘Puppet’ before they knock you down like a bowling pin with the layers of frenzied noise in ‘Chelsea Smile’.
There’s no room for marshmallow softness in this EP. Throughout the six songs is a blunt, aggressive honesty which is refreshing and toxic at the same stoke like a too-rapidly downed vodka and lime. “Your friends all bore me,” fires Reardon like a shotgun, revelling in his ninety second takedown of an imagined partner. In fact, most of their songs are very short but that’s to their benefit; Plaiins’ power is in the controlled explosion of their unbalanced fairground energy. Considering that this EP leaves you reeling with what it brings to the scratched and stained punk rock table, seeing them live must be one hell of an affirming experience.
Kate Allvey
There’s a sherbet, ‘Chelsea Dagger’ singalong static crackling around the edges of this EP. Whatever substance powers Howlin’ Pelle is being intravenously absorbed by vocalist Chris Reardon before being charismatically and explosively expelled on tracks like ‘WOOHAA! (speak easy)’. The only drawback to their hyper-real, late night punk style is when they try and act seriously on tracks like ‘Polidicks’, their sneering narrator comes across as an edgelord, the kind of guy who says “well, actually…” after a point is sincerely made. But then they win you back as easily as they lost you with their melodic plea to “meet me halfway” on ‘Puppet’ before they knock you down like a bowling pin with the layers of frenzied noise in ‘Chelsea Smile’.
There’s no room for marshmallow softness in this EP. Throughout the six songs is a blunt, aggressive honesty which is refreshing and toxic at the same stoke like a too-rapidly downed vodka and lime. “Your friends all bore me,” fires Reardon like a shotgun, revelling in his ninety second takedown of an imagined partner. In fact, most of their songs are very short but that’s to their benefit; Plaiins’ power is in the controlled explosion of their unbalanced fairground energy. Considering that this EP leaves you reeling with what it brings to the scratched and stained punk rock table, seeing them live must be one hell of an affirming experience.
Kate Allvey