Some records feel like they were carefully constructed. Others feel like they were barely contained. Udder’s three-song 7” on Depose Records lands firmly in the second category with a short, strange burst of psych-leaning noise rock that feels less like a statement and more like something unearthed.
That’s not far from the truth either. Originally formed in the early ’90s and now reunited decades later, Udder aren’t chasing a sound but reconnecting with one. These recordings, tied to sessions with a then emerging David Barbe (Sugar, Drive-By Truckers) carry that sense of time displacement. They don’t feel retro. They feel preserved.
Clocking in at just over ten minutes, the 7” wastes no time establishing its identity. Opener “Or I’ll Kill You” sprawls across five minutes of uneasy tension, stretching and warping its ideas rather than locking into anything stable. Guitars drift between jagged riffing and loose, almost psychedelic wandering, while the rhythm section holds things together just enough to keep it from collapsing entirely.
“Grandpa Volleyball” snaps things into a tighter shape. Shorter, more direct, but still carrying that same off-kilter instinct, it leans into momentum without sacrificing the band’s unpredictability. There’s a push-and-pull here between structure and collapse that keeps the track engaging. It’s like the band is constantly deciding whether to rein things in or let them fall apart.
Closing track “Incubus” lands somewhere in between. It opens in a more spacious, almost hypnotic place before gradually building into something heavier and more disorienting. Like much of the record, it doesn’t resolve so much as unravel.
What makes this release stand out is its sense of identity. If I came across this 7” in the mid-90s when I was deep into my “Washing Machine” era of Sonic Youth, I would’ve been so excited. There’s that strong post punk thread running through it with nods to Dinosaur Jr. and Fugazi. Not imitation, but shared DNA in how dissonance is allowed to breathe.
Udder blends notes of several genres to achieve their sound. There’s heavy metal weight, post-punk tension, and dissonant, hook-driven rock into something that feels instinctive rather than calculated. You can hear that this is a band that predates algorithm-era genre blending. They’re not mixing styles for effect; they’re just playing what comes naturally. The production reinforces that. Recorded and mixed by Barbe and mastered by Jason NeSmith, the record sounds clear but unpolished in the right ways. It’s alive. There’s space, there’s grit, and there’s no sense of overcorrection.
If there’s a drawback, it’s that the looseness can occasionally drift into abstraction. These songs don’t always offer immediate entry points, and some listeners might find themselves wanting a stronger anchor. But that same unpredictability is what gives the record its character in my opinion.
Udder’s 7” doesn’t feel like a comeback or a debut. It feels like a continuation of something that existed before, disappeared, and has now resurfaced with even more weight behind it. And if this is just the reintroduction, the next chapter could get even more interesting.
