Like a garage No Wave outfit from an alternate plane, Oakland's WET DRAG swerve around four tracks of damaged primitive indie with a casual deliberation. Occasionally breaking into awkwardly addictive melodies ("Too Young," for example) the vibe is somewhere between PIL playing on a broken turntable and East Bay Ray playing guitar for BLURT....on Klonopin. The line between intentional pretension and accidental brilliance is a blurry one, y'all.
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