Lip Critic return with certainty on Theft World

Track after track unfolded with cacophonic relentlessness, the band driven by a make-or-break sense of urgency. The pace and pitch of the set were impressive, as the band went all-in, holding nothing back.

With their new album, Theft World, that blend of hardcore, maxi-pop, and nerd-hop is still the band’s calling card. But they’ve taken their foot off the accelerator a bit. They’re not coasting, they’re simply surer about themselves and their abilities. If with Hex Dealer, they kept the engine revved, so to speak, for fear of stalling out, here they trust that well-oiled V8, knowing that its horsepower and reliable components will carry them where they need to go.

The album launches with the lurching, swirly “Two Lucks”. Bret Kaser opens with an amiable vocal tone but soon leaps into scream mode, his voice cutting through waves of synthy rhythms and frenetic drums. Still, there’s a tongue-in-cheek element here when he declares, “You are the hell that I made for myself” and, later, “In that junk space / Oh, I’m the junk god”, replacing rap swagger with self-deprecation, street threats with graffiti confessionalism.

Lip Critic’s blend of bombast and humour occasionally brings to mind the early Beastie Boys records. Lip Critic, though, sensitive to a 2020s zeitgeist, are more aggressive and lyrically oblique. Death Grips come to mind, though the Grips are darker, trafficking in horrorscapes and rage-y tableaux. Soul Glo is an apt comparison, though the Philadelphia band is more politically confrontational, less parodic, and more rooted in a thrashy brand of hardcore. Still, a track such as “Jackpot” checks the nightmare and grit-and-grind boxes, even if in a “mock” way. Clangorous drums are set alongside slappy vocals. Harsh accents slash and gouge. Cynicism abounds, and yet, there’s a jokey overtone that mollifies the overall impact. And, as rollicky as the track is, the band aren’t afraid to let it coalesce naturally, even if that translates to a spacey interlude (that gets supercharged soon enough). Unlike with previous work, Lip Critic aren’t forcing things; the sound, even if maximal, unfurls organically. Theft World is Lip Critic relaxing.

“Debt Forest” froths with busy beats, high-pitched drones, and Kaser’s bookworm-turned-psychopath vocals. As he moves between a sprechgesang and unrestrained screams, it’s as if he’s found a way to integrate the quirkiness of the B52s’ Fred Schneider and the volatility of Deafheaven’s George Clarke. That’s an intriguing range.

“My Blush (Strength of the Critic)”, meanwhile, is full of warbly, bouncy, and jarring sounds. “Flesh and blood and my name / Scattered out in that fine mist / We aerosol the ravine”, Kaser declares, sounding like a speed-fueled eco-anarchist. “Shoplifting” captures a slacker scene turned scary. Drums erupt; synths, slightly out of tune, invoke existential and political tension. Kaser is out of breath, trying to get his brain around his escalating paranoia.

Closer “200 Bottles on Eviction” is the album’s most melodic take, occurring as something the Dublin-born Fontaines, D.C. could have come up with. The track is more compositionally oriented, moving between the austere and chaotic. Kaser displays his ability to nail a hook, then falls into a demonic scream, reminding us that, if forced to choose, he’d take deathcore over pop every time.

With Theft World, Lip Critic further eclecticise the templates introduced on their first two albums. At the same time: if previous work, particularly Hex Dealer, showed them almost hijacking an audience, demanding undivided attention, Theft World spotlights them trusting themselves and their process – that whatever they’re doing will land as it’s supposed to land and reach the people it’s supposed to reach.