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Joyce Manor's Cody hearts club band

The pop-punk band is at Gasa Gasa Feb. 14



Anyone unfamiliar with Joyce Manor's extraordinary output can remedy that over the next couple of hours. Like, all of it: not only the Torrance, California, quartet's four "full-length" albums, each a Doppler-effected rush of post-adolescent, pre-adult mood swings that extend from 13 to 25 minutes (settle in), but also its 2012 collection Collection, its three 2009 demo recordings and its three split-EPs since (or you can just jump in at defining second record Of All Things I Will Soon Grow Tired and fall in love immediately). It's hard to pinpoint exactly how this band is able to high-step through the trip-wired minefield of pop/punk where so many others bellyflop into smithereens. I think it has something to do with the pious belief in both pop and punk as mutually inclusive houses of worship, as opposed to a single, hybridized hypocrisy. There's also the blood-curdling refusal by singer Barry Johnson to descend into masturbatory emo blubbery — even while barking warnings like "You're better off not trying too hard" on bizarrely heartrending mini-opuses such as "Midnight Service at the Mutter Museum." On 2016's Cody (Epitaph), the boys enlist a new drummer, a new producer (Rob Schnapf, who helmed every great Elliott Smith album) and the same ventricle-exploding affect. It's sweet relief for everyone feeling whitewashed by nu-Weezer. AJJ and Mannequin Pussy open. Tickets $15.

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