Abe Vigoda: Skeleton

Proud veterans of The Smell,

the not-for-profit L.A. venue/art space beloved for its vegan snacks, $5

covers, and inclusive ideology, tropical punks Abe Vigoda are fuzzy and tenuous

in the vein of peers No Age or Mika Miko, peddling post-hardcore guitars and

flat, muted vocals. But despite an obvious affinity for echo and murk, the

Chino band's third LP, Skeleton,

is surprisingly delicate, its punk rock bravado countered by an unexpected (and

not unwelcome) fragility—as if the whole thing might just burst into

shards if you dare to turn it up too loud. Mostly, Skeleton is jagged and weird: Opener "Dead City/Waste

Wilderness," with its trilling, crooked guitars and nonstop cymbal crashes, is

about as sweet as Abe Vigoda gets (see the nail-chewing dissonance of "The

Garden," "World Heart," or "Endless Sleeper," which feels like a music box gone

wrong). But if you can take the knocks, the band is at its finest when

embracing discordance—listening to Skeleton can feel a little bit like getting whacked backwards

by a wave, mouth full of sand, ears ringing, equilibrium gone, praying for

light and air, and savoring the ride.