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.