Hey! Listen to Warp and Weft!

Ahh, first impressions. From my introverted perspective, I appreciate a good first impression. Good, as in “Hey, now I know something about you, I like that thing about you, and I hope to hear from you again. See ya!” Other, less-than-good impressions are of a few other varieties, including “Hey, now I know something about you, and I don’t really care for it. Later!” or the somehow worse “Hey, now I know something about you, I like that thing about you, and I hope to hear from you… oh what? Another thing? Oh, okay, that’s uh… mmhm. Yeah. Okay. Great. I have to go over here now…. bye.” The latter is a classic case of too much of a good thing and I feel like it’s totally applicable to our experiences in music. Why is any of this important? Well, it’s because the debut from Minneapolis trio Warp and Weft is a darn great first impression.

Key in this experience is brevity. Too much bullshit can plague even the most brilliant of ideas, and that’s probably why we’re more frequently hearing talk about shorter albums and shorter live sets. Honestly though, we love the tease; we want to be left wanting more. Coincidentally (funny how paragraphs work, eh?), that’s exactly what Warp and Weft achieve with Patience. In less than 20 minutes, the trio produce an engrossing array of noisy and mathy post-hardcore. Tracks like “Fabregé” and “Seduction/Oblivion” are unceasingly dizzying and fleeting, likely to put some wrinkles on your forehead from all the What the Fuck? Face you’ll be making. The rhythmic beatdown feels like jarring noise rock, but the tempos on Patience deny the swagger and sneer we associate with more traditional noise rock à la The Jesus Lizard or Unsane. Instead, their hardcore tendencies take precedent. Botch and Daughters types more readily come to mind, as guitarist/vocalist Eric Burns’ angular guitar stabs and shouts perforate in ways that Norman Bates could only dream of.

This transient approach should come as no surprise to those of you familiar with classic shit rockers Morality Crisis (of which Warp and Weft features bassist/vocalist Jordan Koch-Engstrom and drummer Chris Woznicki), because there’s a similar restlessness and desire to quickly push things to the extreme, change direction at a moment’s notice, only to then chase that with another mind-erasing smattering of wonky rhythms and serrating guitars. It’s tough to make heads or tails of where they fall on this noise-to-hardcore spectrum. When viewed as a noise rock band, they’re a refreshingly zippy, proficient spin on the more typical, slower, grisly lurch. “Cesarean Tourniquet” is like being in an operating room gallery, where you can hear things get deconstructed, examined, and reconstructed before your very ears. Still, the delightful instrumental “Colostrum” is in the vein of looser, ‘90s vibes, and much of “Parallel Voyeurs” has that signature crooked trounce. Yet, it’s all betrayed by jagged forget-me-not closer “Fatal Altruism.” It’s an intriguing goodbye that’ll leave you wondering what’s next for these dudes as much as it’ll have you smashin’ that play button as soon as it dissipates.

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