The Peppermints

Some albums grow on you with repeated spins. This second full-length from San Diego's Peppermints probably isn't one of them. On first listen, Jesüs Chryst evokes being at some warehouse space 15 years ago, watching a riotous mixed-gender cacophony squad blare noisily and anarchically. The Peppermints serve up that same sort of rough 'n' tumble chaos-rock so de rigueur of the '80s/'90s underground; the 18 short tracks on this disc sound like a sloppy purée of very early Sonic Youth, the Birthday Party, Babes in Toyland, and gobs of spazz-punk/no-wave lesser-knowns. Versed as they are in catchy rudimentary riffs topped by annoying vocal shrieks, the Peppermints do have a certain unruly bacchanalian charm, and it seems the band's trying to be abrasive, so perhaps this record could be considered successful in that regard. Live, the three gals and one guy reportedly put on a messy, outrageous debacle, so see them first, then check out Jesüsif you dare.