There’s a new best band in San Francisco. And this band plays a beautiful cacophony of raw, frenetic guitars, fiercely pounded drums, and jerky yet oddly melodic vocals. Perfect timing and guitar damage reminiscent of the Proletariat underscores a vocal delievery not dissimilar to the Observers but less operatic and more desperate. Synthetic ID sound like Greg Sage, D. Boone, and Colin Newman fabricating the house band for the International Space Station. Or better yet, spending three days in close quarters on an uncharted trek to the Sea of Tranquility. Anxious paranoia dripping from the walls. It's jerky, derailed, and draws heavily from early post-punk, but chugs along at a classic punk tempo, blasting out totally agitated lyrics the whole time. Space madness? Or just a need to escape the surface of this planet, even if it just be through the act of playing two minute punk jams? Either way, it's exciting and different. This record is a tight, fuzzy underground treasure in the waiting.
500 are made
150 Clear Vinyl ( ETT Version with Obi Stripe )
100 Clear Vinyl ( Tour Version - 50 with Tour Obi Stripe )
250 White Vinyl
2 Testpress ( Different Artwork )
Track Premiere: Synthetic ID - Pressure Gauge by B. Kruder
Synthetic ID evokes collapsing architecture, mangled pin cushions in undated photographs and above all else, tension. The San Franciscan group’s debut EP was an exercise in straight-ahead punk with a post-punk guitar aesthetic that eschewed heavy-handed pastiche in favor of modern neuroses. Sinuous guitar leads deftly plunge, serrate and splice with insidious resolve while the band asserts mid-tempo conviction and tasteful restraint. Constantly on the brink of a seething barrage, the group retreats into their festering comfort zone, as if unable to cope with the demands of healthy social behavior. To illustrate, Synthetic ID recently performed in a Mission District taco shop and margaritas curdled.
Their debut EP was such a distilled document of sonic maladjustment and bagged-up- but-doin’-damage moodiness that it’s difficult to imagine a more potent offering. Only, Oakland’s 1-2-3-4 Go! Records and Haug's Erste Theke Tonträger is arranging the group’s follow up 12” and judging by this track, Synthetic ID is reacting to their urban locale with more spite, damage and unnerving vitality.
Also check the 1st EP of this unique Band, this Review is the answer if you are asking why:
These three songs have restored my faith in modern punk rock. I had essentially "given up" on most new punk rock a few years ago, but this EP got me pulling out some of my old stuff...
Nic Lang chants old-school "oi" style over a driving beat and grinding bass line on White Walls. Between The Lines has a definite post-punk vibe with the same chanting from Nic on the chorus. Every time I play these three songs though, if I am able to keep it turned down at all Throwaway is where I loose all control and either cause hearing damage to myself (with earphones) or scare the neighbors (via home stereo).
This may be one of punk rock's all time greatest songs. Yeah that's right, I did just say that. The energy in this song is undeniable. It starts off with a sludgy riff but quickly breaks into a fast paced almost bouncy rhythm with Jake Dudley throwing out some really cool arpeggios and bends on the guitar. Nic amps up the chanting to an impassioned shout on the chorus ("Throwawaaaaay") and there's a breakdown with just Will Litton's drums and Paul Lucich's bass.