I Hate Music
North Carolina’s Superchunk plays pure indie rock. You know the drill: kicking rhythms and a veritable wall of feedback, all mixed with the intention of saturating the senses. It’s a restless rock sound that knocks the wind out of you — and reliance on nostalgia is minimal. If it sounds like they aren’t inventing the indie-rock wheel, that’s because they already helped invent it 20 years ago.
Superchunk is still doing what it did with aplomb through the ’90s. The guitar is still gnarly, the drum crashes still wash over like a tidal wave and the bass licks still flip, all under Mac McCaughan’s hoarse, anthemic howls.
This is an album that explores existentialism in unflinching detail, asking, “What is music worth?” It’s a cliffhanger of an album. “You’ll have my answer,” McCaughan belts at one point, “and you’ll have it till my last breath.”