Inspired by the jangling guitars and psychedelic aspirations of bands such as Dinosaur Jr. Screaming Trees and latter-day Soundgarden, PABST are a Berlin-based power trio whose trippy musings have been epitomised in one beautiful 10” slab of wax. Released via the esteemed German label, Crazysane Records, ‘Skinwalker’ is available as a limited edition (300 hand numbered copies) vinyl and will stand as a testament to the enduring power of the mid-90s alternative scene.
Opening with the crunchy guitars and explosive percussion of ‘Bias’, Pabst immediately draw comparisons to the scratchy alt-punk of Fugazi and the frazzled art-rock of the Pixies. Erik Heise, his voice drenched in a metallic reverb, employs a similar vocal style to Thurston Moore whilst his guitar shoots sparks over Tore Noah Knipping’s ear-battering percussive assault. ‘Members only’ is similarly esoteric with its barely–in-tune vocal delivered over Satan’s own bass line (Tilman Eggebrecht). With speaker-threatening levels of distortion, the band operate in a related field to such modern-day exponents of stripped-down rock as the Graveltones and their dirty sound (captured perfectly by Robert Westerfield) is similarly thrilling. The EP’s highlight is the somnolent pulse of ‘Members only’ which digs into the same dreamy psychedelia that inspired Billy Corgan on ‘Gish’. Sweet and soothing, but with an ever-present threat lurking beneath the surface, the only criticism is that it’s too damn shorty and I’d love to hear a track like this stretched out ion the live environment. ‘Ocean Cruise’ heads back into melodic noise pop territory with its rolling snare and layers of treble-heavy guitar before the EP ends with the band in all-guns-blazing mode with the crushing noise of ‘Watching people die’, a track which would easily fit onto an early Sebadoh or Dinosaur Jr. album with its fizzing guitars and Beatles-esque chorus.
Having grown up regularly scanning the pages of the NME (before it turned into a glorified, glossy advertising pamphlet) and Melody Maker for exactly this sort of band, I must confess to having a weak spot when it comes to blistering guitars and deceptively addictive pop melodies. PABST have tapped into the same dynamic vein of inspiration that led to the rise of bands such as Nirvana and this EP has a spirit of exploration that is entirely charming, right down to the blissful white-noise white-out that closes the record. If you still hanker for the days when J Mascis could be seen ploughing his guitar into the stage as he assaulted ‘Freak scene’, then this is the EP for you. 9
