King of Jeans. The title of Pissed Jeans’ third album and second for Sub Pop conjures their essence perfectly—-masters of the mundane, beasts of the banal, high priests of the humdrum. These four, white, male high school graduates hardly look further than their own appendages for artistic inspiration, content to execute their own brand of brash and heavy punk music in the Joe Carducci-approved standard rock formation of guitar, bass, drums and vocals. From simple minds and simple fabrics comes this King of Jeans, perhaps also a slight nod to the variety of Pissed Jeans-inspired groups that have crawled up since 2007’s Hope for Men. After all, there can be only one. If 2005’s Shallow was Pissed Jeans coping with moving out of their parents’ homes, and 2007’s Hope for Men their initial reaction to the mechanical lifestyle of a wage-earner, King of Jeans is their formal and uneasy acceptance of adulthood. The age gap between the members of Pissed Jeans and high school girls is no longer something to be overlooked—-they hoped for men, and sometimes you get what you wish for. Backs get sore easier and stay sore longer, record collections have reached their breaking point or have been sold entirely, and procreating is becoming a more pressing issue. What are you supposed to do when you are unable to break out of the standard, middle-class American life cycle that you never really wanted but don’t have the energy to subvert? When you are forced to understand that it’s all madness but know fully well that someone will have to take care of our aging parents? Well, Pissed Jeans went ahead and made one hell of a rock record…

The return of 'the loudest band in New York' as A Place to Bury Strangers are constantly touted, and it's hard to say, just based on recordings if that's true or not, since generally, the louder a band is, the harder it is to record them and not lose the power that comes with volume. But APTBS's first record was indeed loud, and heavy, and fuzzed out and shoegazey and we totally loved it. Rumor was that this new record ditched much of the volume for more concise songwriting and a focus on melody, which had us a bit worried, but apparently for naught, since the first track "It Is Nothing" is a total amp melting Bailter Space style dream fuzz blowout, looped mantra like vocals, massive washes of blurred guitar, hypnotic drumming, in fact, somehow we ended up listening to that song about 5 times in a row before we bothered going any deeper into the record.

But the rest of the record is just as dense and noisy and heavy and blown out. The same sonic touchstones still apply, Jesus And Mary Chain, Loop, My Bloody Valentine, Spacemen 3 and especially Bailter Space. The vocals washed out and weary, the drums a solid propulsive pound the bass wiggly and melodic, but a band like this, it's all about the guitars, and they are a monster, seemingly always on the verge of careening out of control, throbbing and buzzing, soaring and screeching, grinding out thick chunks of caustic crunch, or unfurling a gauzy sheet of glimmery haze.