I have to confess sometimes I do not understand the lo-fi movement. For me listening to a song recorded on antiquated equipment is like watching a movie on an old television–it won’t ruin a good movie, but it makes a bad movie seem worse, or at least tries your patience for how long you are willing to put up with it. And the self-titled debut album from Portland group The Woolen Men is something like that movie on an old screen; it renders you unsure how you should evaluate its half-hour of punkish garage-rock, which is completely dunked in ultra lo-fi effect.
“Mayonnaise” kicks in with a staunch bass groove and clamorous guitars. It’s somewhat fun and somewhat lazy, with idle vocals, enervated instrumental interludes, and lyrical phrases that turn through typical punk themes. But mind the fuzz on “Hold It Up”; the track may have a cool groove and a folkish coloring but I just felt there was something stuck in my ears that needed an immediate Q-tip excavation. Other tracks, like the upbeat “Head on The Ground”, with their frayed riffs and harmonious sixties vocals, can be fun, but their sound comes through as though someone’s recording the band from outside the garage, then feeding that noise through an old television stereo.
Of course, I find lo-fi intriguing in experimental situations and understand it as a cost-conscious choice. But with a label and experience behind this album, it carries the sort of pretension that a modern-day black and white movie might, and the lo-fi nature just feels more gimmicky than anything. Stripped from that, the album’s punk-rock feels more like a half-cooked collection of under-imagined jammed sessions. The songs don’t know what decade they are from and don’t really seem to care–melodies and sounds just roll out with a shrug. But I suppose that’s the idea of punk–at the end of the day it doesn’t have to answer to anybody.
