12 Songs, 33 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

One imagines three young testosterone-loaded guys banging around in their L.A. basement with ratty instruments, saying: “Let’s make music that spits fire, and let’s name ourselves something really wacky, just to show ‘em.” Okay, you showed us. Pangaea (the supercontinent from which modern-day continents were formed) alone would be a fine name, but … okay, whatever. Just remember to drop an “a” and capitalize that part, but not “together”: together PANGEA. Badillac, on the other hand, is a fine name for an album. The title track is killer song: a midtempo number that reeks of California sun and sweat, with a hint of surf twang and punk-dive grittiness. William Keegan’s snot-filled sneer manages to endear (it comes close to pining on tunes like “Offer” and “Why”), and his metal-meets-grunge-meets-punk guitar is both baleful and taunting. Here, together PANGEA not only fit perfectly with the booming L.A. scene; they feel like a glue, connecting Surfer Blood, No Age, and Fidlar all together. Humor, grungy-marinated West Coast garage chops, and brilliant melodic skill … who cares about the band name?

EDITORS’ NOTES

One imagines three young testosterone-loaded guys banging around in their L.A. basement with ratty instruments, saying: “Let’s make music that spits fire, and let’s name ourselves something really wacky, just to show ‘em.” Okay, you showed us. Pangaea (the supercontinent from which modern-day continents were formed) alone would be a fine name, but … okay, whatever. Just remember to drop an “a” and capitalize that part, but not “together”: together PANGEA. Badillac, on the other hand, is a fine name for an album. The title track is killer song: a midtempo number that reeks of California sun and sweat, with a hint of surf twang and punk-dive grittiness. William Keegan’s snot-filled sneer manages to endear (it comes close to pining on tunes like “Offer” and “Why”), and his metal-meets-grunge-meets-punk guitar is both baleful and taunting. Here, together PANGEA not only fit perfectly with the booming L.A. scene; they feel like a glue, connecting Surfer Blood, No Age, and Fidlar all together. Humor, grungy-marinated West Coast garage chops, and brilliant melodic skill … who cares about the band name?

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