by Kris Handel (@khandel84)
Fake Fruit, currently a Californian quartet, deliver their self-titled debut after a few semi-nomadic years for band frontperson Hannah D’Amato and with it they introduce their jittered and tense punk. Her vocals easily slide between her ranges as the bobbing bass of Martin Miller drives the music forward between skittish guitar fills. Fake Fruit embrace the sounds of late 70s-very early 80’s post-punk filtered through a skewed pop sensibility found in well-known and oft-cited mid-90s ‘indie rock’ bands but with a more modern and aloof disposition. D’Amato and bandmates shift between fast paced and nervy songs that come in a blur of about ninety seconds and tunes that manipulate a larger amount of space while maintaining an underlying unease.
On the nervier side of tracks is “Miscommunication,” featuring rolling drum fills crashing from the kit of Miles MacDiarmid around searing staccato guitar and D’Amato’s forceful snapping vocals. Her sharp interjections include challenges such as “Something on your mind? /Why don’t you just say it/Share it with the class? /SHARE IT WITH THE CLASS!” while her bandmates stutter and tremble around them. “Don’t Put it on Me” shares something of the same space as “Miscommunication” as D’Amato once again roars and challenges her subject to take ownerships of their own actions and words while guitars spit pointed shards behind her. Fake Fruit are at their burliest here in this declarative punk scrawl that does not suffer fools lightly and highlights a tough and down to business vocal performance.
“No Space for Residence” comes teetering out of the speakers with quivering guitar and D’Amato employing a new-wave-ish chirp before making way to a hazy and more deliberate pace as the anxious crunch re-emerges. Fake Fruit show off a playfulness that is at the basis of most of the offerings with a knowing smirk that is frankly charming and hard to resist. “Stroke My Ego” carries a bit of a “slacker rock” groove as D’Amato’s vocals have a bit of a softer edge and Miller’s bass bounds inside and out of MacDiarmid’s ever awkward and shifting shuffle. The band, comparatively, stretches out musically here and shifts moods and tones ever so well and add a little moment of scruffy and clamorous power pop.
On their debut, Fake Fruit show they are seasoned and firm footed in their musical attack, playing fully to their strengths while also exhibiting a mischievous streak. The sequencing on the record is masterful and never lets the record fall flat, allowing for the various tempos and moods to shine brightly. D’Amato and company clearly have a strong connection which is extremely flexible as they traverse taut and punchy punk bursts along with motorik grooves. It may have taken a bit of time and patience but Fake Fruit have provided an impressive introduction for themselves and creates a heightened anticipation for whatever is to come next.