Lonely Parade

The Pits

Lonely Parade will be the first to tell you that they don’t have their shit together, not that you can hear it in their music. The Pits, the Montreal-viaPeterborough trio’s first album since signing to Toronto label Buzz Records, sets the frustrations and insecurities of young adulthood to an assured, technically complex brand of furious post-punk. Lyrically, vocalists Augusta Veno and Charlotte Dempsey craft terse narratives about love, pain and the trials of growing up. They’re tense and relatable, as fraught and unsettling as the post-punk instrumentals they’re set to. But there are several moments on the album where words fail them, where they’re too frustrated to articulate eloquently, which serve as some of The Pits’ most powerful moments. Few phrases capture the pithy agony of adolescent instability better than “New roommate. Fuck,” or “I’d like to thank you but... fuck you.”

It all serves to showcase Lonely Parade’s instincts, sharply honed after six years as a band. Tracks can turn on a dime, driven by drummer Anwyn Climenhage’s impressive technical prow- ess, bolstered by exasperated waves of fuzz and peals of feedback. Conveying the problems of their youth through musical chops far beyond their years, Lonely Parade use their ample talents to make songs that are as unpredictable and engaging as the experiences they’re singing about. (Buzz, buzzrecords.ca) SOUL