Woah. Wet Paint, Woe.

If you're looking for some seething, heart-on-sleeve scuzzy stuff whilst struggling for grip on the speeding coattails of Yuck, cling on tightly to Wet Paint, as they conjure a similarly melodic sonic barrage that's intermittently concealed away within visceral vocal drawl and agitated feedback howling. The whippersnapping, rip-roaring Uptight Casuals is all but devoid of era categorisation, bubblegum chorus sticking to quintessential grunge lyrics of being brought down and written off, like Nine Black Alps enticing J. Mascis with Chupa Chups round the back of the Garage (maybe), whilst the acoustic amble of Aim Low succinctly epitomises both Woe and woe (definitely). If intermittently wallowing in self-depreciation, more often than not the troupe writhe in gritty openstring overdrive, Dead Night uniting triumphant guitar gangle with vocals gloriously low in the mix, as if glaring from a pit of aural onslaught. It's quite inconceivable that the creators of Woe, Melinda Bronstein, Babak Ganjei and Laurie Earle, help to formulate the alt-country equations of Absentee, despite the Real Estate-ish lull of Shadow's Secret Life gently rocking rather than wholeheartedly rocking and a-rolling. Little Disappointments is about as explicit as it gets on the influence agenda, lyrics of Sonic Youth t-shirts only impressing "indie geeks" in need of "validation" slurred prominently. However, it's the parting sway of the gushing Lynchstrumental that marks Woe off as a truly special record, an almost funereal lurch through perfectly simplistic emotional outpour. A record to wallow in, wail to, and wriggle through, Woe is ever so slightly stupendous.