If that’s true, it’s only slightly true.

There are tracks throughout Life Without Sound that pummel as hard as anything in Cloud Nothings’ catalogue, with production quality that slays and unbridled aggression that captures much of what Cloud Nothings has become known for. Tracks like “Darkened Rings” or “Strange Year” carry much of the craziness of albums like Here and Nowhere Else.

In other words, this isn’t exactly the sort of record you’d want to meditate to.

That being said, there are new sounds on Life Without Sound. The band is more tuneful than ever before. The album opener, “Up to the Surface”, carries a piano in its intro and builds through a nearly pop-punk introduction. “Internal World” and “Enter Entirely” take their influence from bands like Weezer (and even some classic rock).

For Cloud Nothings, this is par for the course. Cloud Nothings’ trademark is our inability to know what an album is going to sound like upon release, and Life Without Sound is no different.

That’s not to say that Cloud Nothings is making music that sounds unlike themselves. They’re not making pop music, after all. But they’re embracing a method of songwriting that sounds less rushed and more tuneful. It’s a step in a new direction, but not necessarily a commercial one.

For the first time, Cloud Nothings just sounds optimistic.

Well, as optimistic as Cloud Nothings can sound.

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That would be laughable if the music didn’t live up to it, but the good news is that Ty Segall’s newest project is one of his punkiest, noisiest records yet. It’s fuzzier than Fuzz and certainly more in-your-face than his other bands, although prior to GØGGS I didn’t know that was possible. It’s Segall at his most absurd, and maybe his most fun.

When I first heard the opening track, “Falling In,” I was instantly reminded of Savages’ Adore Life (still one of my favourite records this year). But the tone changed very quickly. I was worried for a moment that this would be a slow, calculating Segall record. But GØGGS is a raw, energetic record from one of rock’s most raw and energetic leading men.

It’s worth noting that Segall isn’t the only talent on the record: Fuzz drummer Charles Moothart and Ex-Cult’s vocalist Chris Shaw are both on board too. Chris Shaw’s vocals are a great complement to Segall’s fuzzy tone. The great bass lines throughout help too. Seriously, if you play bass guitar, this is going to be one of your favourite records of the year. The bass work is fantastic and it’s audible.

As much as this feels like a Segall record, at this point, it’s also starting to feel like he’s parodying himself. It’s yet another project from him (how many bands does he have now?) with fuzzy production and a clear anti-modern aesthetic. Even guitar solos, like the ones on Shotgun Shooter, are kept short and sweet — and as distorted as possible. It’s Segall playing Segall. I don’t know why it couldn’t have been released under any other one of his monikers.

But it’s also got some hardcore punk influence, too. Dead Kennedys are undoubtedly an influence here, but so is Minor Threat. Sometimes, the band sounds intentionally nightmarish, projecting punk-influenced drone metal on the title track. (It’s weird, but it’s also pretty cool.)

I love “Assassinate the Doctor,” which feels like everything I loved about hardcore punk in the first place. It’s twisted, it’s ruthless, it’s violent. It’s also a ton of fun.

GØGGS doesn’t overstay their welcome: the ten tracks fly by, and the record isn’t padded out with any signs of weakness either. The final track, “Glendale Junkyard,” is as much of a ripper as “She Got Harder,” the album’s third track. It’s a testament to Segall and crew that, even if you can’t tell Ty’s bands apart any more, they’re still ripping from one album to the next with nary a stop for a breath.

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The Toronto natives are a special sort of awesome, and have a great sound that is completely reminiscent of punk that came before, but also wholly unique. This is a band who isn’t afraid to be wild with it. Listen to Human: that’s a sound aware of the past, but completely dispassionate about sounding anything like it today. Especially as it gets towards its end and breaks down into its off-kilter bridge.

And while we’re on the topic of Human, let’s be honest and say that Weaves’ drummer is bloody tight. That guy is on. He’s one of my new favourite drummers.

The record is bound together by a consistent aesthetic, but not necessarily by a consistent style. That is to say, while Weaves has a sound all of their own, each song sounds different. A song like Birds & Bees, which reminds me Self (before he appeared on the Shrek soundtrack), sounds like Weaves while still being a completely unique song on the record.

The effect is powerful: a couple listens to Weaves is enough to assert that the band is a wholly original take on a retro genre styling, but also able to craft memorable and unique songs. It’s pure magic — the sort of thing you’re lucky if an artist can do once in their career, never mind on their debut.

Whether you’re listening to the punk-y One More, the jittery Coo Coo, or the panic-laden Candy, Weaves have a sound that’s all their own. It’s one of the most exciting punk albums of the year, and certainly one of the year’s best debuts. It reminds me a lot of the first time I heard Nirvana; the same energy is there.

Weaves is the sort of band you listen to so you can see them live, and I’m really hoping to catch a show soon. This record is phenomenal; I can’t say enough good about it.

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Make no mistake, Post Pop Depression — if the album title wasn’t already a clear giveaway — is an existential album. Iggy is in full virtuosic form, with his genius — or Homme’s genius, because who can tell — on full display throughout. Iggy just plain old doesn’t care what you think anymore.

Josh Homme does, though. His production values are incredible on this record: the guitar notes are clear, the drums sound impeccably tough, and the bass hits hard. Homme has given this the same level of production he would a Queens of the Stone Age.

In particular, Gardenia reeks of Homme’s quality production and songwriting. Lyrically, it’s Iggy at his most torrid as he explains how he wants to tell Gardenia “what to do” tonight:

“America’s greatest living poet was ogling you all night. You should be wearing the finest gown, but here you are now — gas, food lodging, poverty, misery, and gardenia.”

And on Paraguay, in the record’s final moments, Iggy accuses the audience of being positively inhuman and tells them he’s tired of all their fear and insecurities. It’s pure Iggy — pure punk.

The inclusion of the other band members is vital, but confusing: is Iggy passing the torch to them? What’s next? When Post Pop Depression was first announced, the first thought I had was about how meta it was. Iggy Pop will come out and pass along the torch, making it clear who’s taking over the rock and roll establishment in his wake.

On Depression, though, Iggy doesn’t do that. He proves he’s still alive, pissed, and ready to take some names. If it really is his final record, it’s a great way to go. It’s an unapologetic admission that Iggy’s tired of being the guy America calls when it needs a friendly old-school rock and roller for an advertisement. It’s Iggy giving the establishment a big middle finger before walking offstage and riding a horse off into the sunset.

Instead of passing the torch, Iggy reminds us that nobody of the current generation can do what he does. He reminds us of his singular talent in front of the mic. It’s a reminder that nobody can do what he do. And maybe the significance of Post Pop Depression’s grease-filled, sexed-up angry sadness is that Iggy’s not ready to die with rock and roll — but he’s going to get out while the getting’s good.

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That style is embodied by Rock Bottom, a song that reveals the college mentality is alive and well with Brendan Lukens’ writing. His writing reminds you that he’s aware of the people around you, but he seems aware mostly of himself.

Despite Lukens’ nearly Seinfeld-like inability to care about anybody around him lest he forget to deal with his own personal issues, the album has an air of intelligence to it. Skipping class because you already know it all, making literary allusions because you can and not because you want to, but caring more about chasing girls and identifying patterns of failure in your past, Modern Baseball is the perfect trip down memory lane for those of us who have already wrapped up our post-secondary education, and it might be the easiest record for students to identify with ever.

On one of the album’s loudest anthems, Lukens explains in an aside that he’s “sharp as a tack, but in the sense that I’m not smart, just a prick,” and it’s in that moment that you realize (if you hadn’t realized already) Modern Baseball is the real punk deal. Despite their college-age sentimentality, the band is more likely to tell you off if you displease you and write off your favourite 1920s-era American novel as a total waste of time — despite being well aware of the context of your friendship and your favourite novel.

Like Weezer, the band excels at writing catchy jingles to throw their self-deprecating lyrics at. And while the post-punk pop-punk style itself isn’t particularly unique, Modern Baseball’s attitude injects it with a sense of youthful vitality that has me excited for their next record.

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Their latest release, No Cities to Love, comes after a decade-long hiatus. It might be their best record, which is incredible. If you’ve been living under a rock, it received practically universal acclaim from critics last year and has been dominant on Best Of lists.

What makes the record so special isn’t just great songwriting or intricate and unique chunky riffs. It’s that all of this greatness is stuffed into a collection of raw, unnerving three-minute punk-like songs.

With great songwriting, awesome riffs, left-leaning politics, and perfect cover art, there isn’t much not to love here. You’re missing out if you haven’t heard No Cities to Love yet.

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You can hear a ton of the Misfits influence, but there’s also a poppy style that breaks in that can be easily traced back to the Ramones. And I can hear a ton of Minor Threat in here too.

Like the best punk, Blood Visions feels like it’s stuck in a time machine from the 80s. Which makes it so easy to love for fans of the genre.

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That being said, when they take their feet off the gas and slow down a little bit, they don’t have the same Tom Petty influence that the Foo do. Whether or not that’s a good thing will depend on how much you like the quieter Foo songs. I like The Men more when they’re rocking out, but their quiet songs aren’t bad — they’re just not as memorable or high quality.

Ultimately, what makes the record so interesting is that’s a band trying something new. It’s rare to capture the moments of musical birth on tape, and thanks to their background in fuzzy rock music production, something about their experimentation sounds incredibly organic.

But that all being said, their music is incredibly good when they turn up the distortion. And I absolutely love the simple album art, which is somehow riveting. I can’t figure out why I like it so much. Maybe it’s the colours.

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As usual, we Canadians had a unique way of doing things: Teenage Head sound like no other punk band at the time. There’s a touch of hardcore to them, but in reality, these guys are way more Ramones than they are Misfits. Which is totally fine, by the way.

Where it gets bonkers is the way they mash that sound with the style of Chuck Berry. It took a couple seconds for me to get t, but really, it’s hard to say there’s anything more punk than that — particularly for its time. In Berry’s day, Johnny Be Goode was the most rebellious song going. And Teenage Head were… Well, they took off because of an incident involving a police riot, so they were no stranger to notoriety.

I guess my point is, combining the Ramones and Chuck Berry is actually very fitting. And I think you’ll love it.

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All of the riffs are just fun. But this is a band that knows their biggest strength is their vocalist, so all they do is support her. And it works so well.

Every song is catchy and fun, and even though it’s not an inspirational record, the sense of joy throughout is palpable. This band is just happy to be making music, and it shows. I love this record.

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