by Matt Keim
Pinch Points play their music with the unrestrained energy of ten-year-olds post-birthday cake. It's infectious and changes on a whim, often spitting out four different sections of a song before anyone even utters a word. In the midst of the melee of their opening number, “Ouch !,” singers Jordan and Acacia announce, "Pinch Points are here." Maybe it's the Australian accent (they hail from Coburg, just north of Melbourne according to Google Maps), or maybe their tone of voice, but I can't help but feel they're giving me the finger when they say it.
That finger does not drop throughout all nine of the songs on their new album, Moving Parts, out on Roolette Records. Wave after wave of sarcastic commentary flies out of their mouths, and I'd really start feeling put down if I could just get myself to stop dancing for a second. There's joy simmering beneath the guitars as they spit back and forth, and the coiled intensity that builds as Issy wallops away on the drums occasionally bursts out as she flings off a lightning fill. It's the kind of music any punk could knock back a beer (or six) to and get lost in a tumultuous crowd, but what better way to spread the good word then fired off over an already rioting party.
The coup de grâce of kiss-offs can be found on the last and longest track of the album, as Jordan reads out loud the review that Bandcamp's biggest tastemaker (and editorial director), J. Edward Keyes, gave them for their previous EP. It's hard to parse whether they're taking the piss or not, but Jordan then thanks Keyes ("It makes it all worth it"), before Pinch Points slowly build into one last emphatic burst.