The self-titled debut from locals Fake Palms (released by believe-the-hype Toronto label Buzz Records) is in step with the aggressive tendencies of the band’s peer group while retaining a vibe all its own. It’s less polished and more fuzzed-out than METZ, and almost as abrasive, but with heavier pop sensibilities than Viet Cong. Those comparisons are just for context, though. Fake Palms are a different monster altogether, drawing you in with big, swirling hooks and, before you know it, catching you in a web you can’t escape.
The nine-song album blasts off with the bombastic Fever Dreams, which leads into the metallic gleam of Sparkles. First-half highlight Melatonin creeps up on you with its (relatively) chilled-out opening, but ascends partway through into a heavenly, distorted guitar onslaught. The lethargic Estates meanders into a short interlude that sets up the album’s glorious second half. The remaining four tracks are nothing but blissed-out post-punk-via-pop-precision, with the slithering, dreamy closer Sun Drips giving way to a choppy ocean of pure noise.
Top track: Sun Drips
Fake Palms play the Silver Dollar September 10.
