by Alyana Vera (@alyanavera)
Few bands manage to capture the spirit of live music as well as Gustaf. Formed in 2018, the Brooklyn five-piece topped Oh My Rockness’ list of NYC's Hardest Working Bands with a total of 37 listed shows and landed in second place the following year. Up until the release of singles “Mine” and “Book” in 2020, there was no way to listen to Gustaf but live. They were the first band I saw in 2020, at a time when live music seemed essential and inescapable—back when a band could actually spend two years existing only in a live format. So, when Gustaf's debut album Audio Drag for Ego Slobs was announced, the question was whether their record could capture the energy of their live act. Key to their live appeal is a heady mix of snarky humor and zany energy that could make even the most stone-faced punks uncross their arms and dance along.
Live, Gustaf is an art-punk circus. Lead singer Lydia Gammill is the charismatic ringleader, eyes bulging out as she jerks herself across the stage in various Dick Tracy-esque suits. Opposite Gammill is usually vocalist and percussionist Tarra Thiessen and her various instruments, including a rubber chicken, a Cafe Bustelo can, and an orange-shaped shaker. The visual gag is completed by bassist Tine Hill, guitarist Vram Kherlopian, and drummer Melissa Lucciola, who play the straight men in this comedy as Gammill crawls around the stage. When I saw them live Gustaf had comedians River L. Ramirez (Los Espookys), Ana Fabrega (Los Espookys), and Amy Zimmer (adult swim) open for them, the trio setting the tone for the night with their dark, absurdist humor and improvised songs about “mouse vaginas” and piss. It’s hard to beat those kinds of singular experiences with a recording. While Audio Drag is not a perfect distillation of their live act, Gustaf’s debut is still great fun as the band leans on its storytelling ability to explore the various anxieties, desires, and fears of the titular "ego slob."
On Audio Drag, Gammill gladly makes herself the joke, inhabiting a narcissistic narrator that is both self-absorbed and needy. "Dog" thrives off this tension, picking up where The Stooges' "I Wanna Be Your Dog" left off by shifting the perspective: instead of wanting to submit, the narrator begrudgingly admits how much they need someone to be their dog, to love them unconditionally—its own sort of capitulation. Kherlopian's guitar prowls around the edges of "Dog" like a thinly veiled threat, while the sounds of a dog barking and whimpering hint that the aggression belies insecurity. This insecurity is made overt on “Best Behavior” as the narrator insists at length that they’re “good,” each repetition sounding less like a fact and more like a wish.
“Dream” gives us a glimpse into the narrator’s subconscious as they fantasize about being praised, adored, and desired—until they realize “it was only a dream.” It’s only when the narrator is given their deepest desires on “Dream” that they start to doubt they deserve it. This doubt fuels a spiral on “The Motions,” the narrator repeating their grounding mantra (“Watch / Breathe / Think / See / Try / Believe / Change / Feel”) in an attempt to hold their composure before the song dissolves into a cacophony of unhinged laughter and yelps. While the narrator who opens Audio Drag sounds defensive and entitled on "Mine," by the end of the album they sound defeated and worn out from maintaining their facade. Down-beat and morose, "Happy" is when the narrator is most vulnerable, admitting "I was never angry / just kind of quick with my tongue / I was feeling empty / on a heart I gave up."
While Audio Drag refines the concepts that Gustaf first explored on the stage, what’s missing from the album is the live act’s confrontational nature. On stage Gammill makes eye contact and speaks directly to the audience, telling self-deprecating jokes between songs, slapping herself, and lunging at the crowd. For live performances of “The Motions” Thiessen holds up a sheet of paper with the mantra written out, counting down each word like a teacher trying to instill a lesson. The visual aspect of Gustaf is intrinsic to their appeal, so even while you can hear Thiessen play the rubber chicken on “The Motions,” you’re still missing a part of the absurdity by not actually seeing it. Gammill’s performance has a stand-up quality to it and she often monologues before launching into the song, like on previous versions of “Mine,” which is now the shortest song on the album. Most of the songs on Audio Drag cap out at around three minutes (with the exception of “Happy”) and the fast pace and melodic bass line keep things funky in lieu of the eye-catching visual performance. More of a complement than a direct translation of their live act, Audio Drag is a compelling character study that stands on its own.
The narrator on Audio Drag—described by Gammill as an anti-hero—is loathsome, pitiful, and familiar. What Gammill is doing is exaggerating and reflecting our worst behaviors back at us to comedic effect. “I wanted the songs to be universally cathartic in a way that played on how we all can be a mess sometimes even if we have no right to be,” Gammill told Brooklyn Vegan. “This is a way to laugh at the times when our emotions get the best of us. So keep on laughing until it is alright again.” Even while exploring the uglier emotions of the human experience, Gustaf manage to crack jokes—“Liquid Frown” is a euphemism for vomit set against a comically moody backdrop and the entire album is a send-up of the self-serious narcissists that have populated rock’s lineage. With Audio Drag Gustaf have managed to create a satirical album that is just as danceable as it is biting, providing the field of post-punk with a much-needed injection of humor and manic energy. So whether you see them perform live or listen to Audio Drag at home, get ready to uncross those arms, put on your dancing shoes, and take yourself a little less seriously.