The Frights – Hypochondriac

San Diego indie group The Frights have come a long way over the span of their three full length albums.  Starting their career as a minor project between friends on the road to college, the band got lucky with local label Postmark Records for the release of their scrappy little, surf-inspired, self-titled album.  At the time, the band resembled those residing in the messy little corner of the garage-punk punk community dominated by Dirtnap Records.

Over the next few years, the band tightened their style, increasingly reducing their surf influence in favour of rock, punk, and indie elements.  The adjustments found The Frights releasing their sophomore album, You Are Going To Hate This, on indie powerhouse Dangerbird Records (Sea Wolf, Fitz & The Tantrums), an easy fit for the catchy but experimental vibe emanating from within.

Fast forward to the present and we find The Frights releasing their third effort through landmark punk staple Epitaph Records, and you’d be right to assume that the band’s new home reflects their current stylistic state.  The band has cranked up the dial on creativity and embarked on the exciting journey of redefining themselves yet again. Hypochondriac feels almost like an entirely different band, one that occupies an brow-raising middle ground between Butch Walker and The Matches.  The production is noticeably clearer, and any hint of surf is present in spirit alone (with the exception of the upstroke heavy “No Place Like (Not Being) Home”).  Opener “Tell Me Why I’m Okay” is part acoustic, part spastic, and indulgently catchy. The vocals are clean and clear – until their not, at which point Mikey Carnevale takes on a shrill-Hot Hot Heat-esque level of unpredictability.  Carnevale is like a bomb waiting to go off, operating calmly until the end of his fuse, like on “Crutch,” which exemplifies his sudden vocal combustibility as the chorus explodes into sonic violence.

Hypochondriac is a suitable title given the album’s suspicious attitude, in which everyone and everything is suspect.  Songs like “Broken Brain” exist on the edge of melancholy like an introspective Butch Walker track, while “Me and We and I” tackles the deep rooted self-image problems reflected in shaving one’s head to hide a receding hairline.  “Goodbyes” channels a tender acoustic delivery that exposes self-doubt (that is explored further in “Alone”), and during “Pills” the band observes that, “There’s a sad sad story in everyone, but something always gives it away,” in describing the transparency of heartache.  The songs shift from light landing melody to crunchy, distorted riffs and contextual production sounds as natural extensions of their songwriting, making each track feel fluid and organic.

I didn’t know what to expect when Hypochondriac showed up in my inbox, but The Frights easily exceeded my initial curiosity and expectations.  Hypochondriac is a new direction for the former surf and garage punk quartet, marking a successful leap into more accessible ground without giving up the attitude and excitement already running through their veins.