ALBUM HIGHLIGHTS – “Leech”, “Semi Detached Furnished Home”, “Strip Club DJ”, “Static On The Radio”
Toronto’s garage-psych punks Wine Lips bring us album number five. Aside from the awesomely colourful, off-the-wall humanoid artwork, TV Dinner takes a sharp turn from the sonically trippy toppings of previous entries – particularly 2024’s Mushroom Death Sex Bummer Party. Tracks are punchy fuzz-bombs, as trawling escapist themes are swapped for sharp takes on real-world subjects, such as the interference of modern technology and inflated costs of living. For the first time, band co-founders Cam Hilborn and Aurora Evans share lead vocals – with Evans fronting three of the thirteen tracks, and both interchangeably providing each other hefty backing. There’s a renewed urgency to Wine Lips. Now a decade into their journey, it feels a new chapter’s been unveiled – one they can’t wait to get started.
Teasing us with three tracks prior to the album’s release, “If You Don’t Know” led the way. A blown-out, mid-tempo track, it fuses the Hives’ crunch with elements of early grunge and heavier Britpop in its choruses – elevating their usual garage staple. Songwriter, vocalist and guitarist Hilborn deliberately intended for this to sound different to everything down the “usual Wine Lips lane”. Another previewed track, “Projector”, proved instantly popular, with Evans taking to the mic to unleash fury at toxic people’s emotional baggage and negative energy – all amid jaunty stop-starts and mile-a-minute riffs, over just ninety-three seconds. Continuing with the same frenzied energy: “Semi Detached Furnished Home” sees Holborn’s vocals level, although still a rebel with a cause – before going full Strummer in his frank, rage-fuelled address of soaring living costs. With added wild guitar freakout and catchy title chants, it’s a surprising album standout.
Of the other quick-fire punkier numbers, opener “Cut It” stands apart with thumping rhythm, sassy attitude and vocal fry that, once again, strongly evokes Per “Pelle” Almqvist – and even the tinny distortion from the Stooges’ Funhouse record. Evans returns for more lyrical fury on “Thirst Trap” and “Fried V”. In fact, Iggy Pop actually endorsed the band by playing the latter on his BBC Radio show, adding “Now that’s what I call music”: feedback they proudly flaunt. Both tracks feature some more ace guitar work and, on “Thirst Trap”, observational punk-rooted lyrics centre in on the devolution of society, based on advanced tech and social media: “No one needs a doctor because everyone’s an expert”, “I can’t get out of bed because I’m looking at my phone” – all boiling down to “I can’t tell the difference between satire and real life”. Predictably, these songs all end abruptly; though, admittedly, some could have benefitted from a switched-up ending or slightly extended solo.
TV Dinner also leans heavily into totally loose, old-school rock’n’roll. “Maybe You Can Give It A Shot” gets the ball rolling in that department, with siren-style fretting riffs. This and “Head On Backwards” are good examples of Evans being an excellent and equally powerful foil for Hilborn’s lead vocals – causing main hooks to instantly sound more familiar. Insanely catchy, “Head On Backwards” is another Hives reincarnation, with the jagged-guitar pop of Royal Blood detectable in there too. Though, the undefeated champion (as far as infectious riffs are concerned) is dirty rocker “Leech” – one of the record’s unsung heroes, offering liberal jaunty guitar twangle over building rhythm and bass.
Now for the Frankie and the Witchfingers-coloured, mid-tempo groovers: “Trip To The Doctor” operates initially on a more collected, slow-and-sleazy vibe, before an upshift to a frantic vocal pace at the bridge. Hilborn’s vocals are at their best here, especially whilst blurting a list of things purported to be bad for your health, taking aim at mass-indoctrination and the colossal slew of unverified “truths” available at your fingertips through the internet: “You can’t believe everything you read / Microplastics kill your mood / Carcinogenics in your food / Microdose to fix your head”. Moving on, a manic scale run eventually transitions us back to the level we started at. “Giant Man Baby” sees an interesting, deeper rasp take shape at the second verse. Elevating the tune, more splintery solo creeps in and fractures into a clumsy wall of spidery distortion, before dropping into a pounding, start-stop, head-nodding exercise to finish.
Two anomalies close out the tracklist – that isn’t to say they don’t work well here, though. The unique “Strip Club DJ” returns Wine Lips to their multi-dimensional sound – as present on the previous album – seeing a sleaze-funk intro of warped synth snaking round Charlie Weare’s prowling bassline. Verse vocals employ a lesser-used spoken word technique – though it’s back to shouty garage punk at the chorus, fuelled by backing chants, which only add to this whole dance-garage-punk-party mash-up. Amazingly, they still find space within all that for a graunchy rock’n’roll solo. The song finds humour in the mind-numbingly mundane, the narrator kidding themselves that they’re “living the dream”: “Everybody wants to have a job like this / Mouths to feed, got bills to pay / Throw that TV dinner in the microwave”. It’s a much-needed vibe change, and an appreciated nod back to their psych-rock-acid-funk leniencies of past. “Static On The Radio” refreshingly delivers with brooding sneer – its grungy beginnings ominous and raunchy, meeting shuffling drums and some Americana twang before a searing blues-punk solo closes out – James Williamson-style. Another of the record’s quiet triumphs, it feels similar, in its whole construct, to Little Barrie.
Evolving is only a good thing, for any band. Though, whether Wine Lips’ sharper edges are here to stay, it remains to be seen. TV Dinner seems to be here for a good time – not a long one. There are more than a few effortless earworms, though some tracks feel like wasted potential, with premature endings. Guitar is undisputedly the star of the show. To add diversity, maybe more room should have been made for raspier vocal experimentation and moodier melodies – even if not for entire song durations. Though, one theme runs constant throughout all five albums: you can’t fault Wine Lips for energy, serving up playful attitude by the plateful – no matter how dire the subject matter.
