by Kris Handel
Bodega welcome 2022 with their third full length, Broken Equipment, carrying on their acerbic and pointed songwriting full of anti-capitalist sentiments and nervy energy that wriggles and bounces all over the place. On this record, front person Ben Hozie slightly softens the songwriting approach of previous releases to capture a bit of a warmer and more reflective mind-frame without depleting the wiry muscle that the audience has become accustomed to. Bodega still have a biting focus that is as sharp as ever, but there is an expounded upon danceability and a melodicism that is pushed up to maximum output on display. This Is a record unafraid to voice multiple concerns it sees with the world around it, as well as taking moments to appreciate vices and moments of entertainment and joy as well.
“Doers” shows Bodega true to form with a lyrical approach questioning if there is true progress for the populace amongst growing urban sprawl and economic and social disparities that grow continuously. Hozie spits out his lyrics with a fury and rhythm over lithe guitar lines, crunching distortion, and a bobbing rhythm section that rarely skips a beat, laying a solid foundation for maximum impact. “NYC (Disambiguation)” also speaks to the problematic nature of greed and dominance on multiple levels that truly benefits very few, levels ways of life, and does unspeakable damage on endless levels. Bodega get truly anthemic here and everything reaches soaring levels of impact, bubbling anger, and disappointment at the damage of nebulous “gains” done to society.
“Statuette on the Console” is a delightfully charging late 70’s NYC punk indebted gem powered by Nikki Belfiglio’s forceful and juddering vocals that crescendo into an almost jubilant chorus. Belfiglio allows space for the lyrics to examine personal control, identity, faith, and strength while dealing with the difficulties of figuring the world out for oneself. “After Jane” brings the record to an end on a somewhat somber note of reminiscence for a departed friend from Hozie, and the aftermath of losing one someone cares deeply about with their own struggles. His vocals waver and strain over lightly strummed guitar and a melody that carries great depth, ending an album of anger and strength with a note of sadness yet sweetness that lingers on the memory of the listener.
Bodega are a band capable of great flexibility and one that nails every approach they take from song to song which is readily apparent on Broken Equipment. The alternating vocals of Belfiglio and Hozie contrast each other delightfully and the grooves the band find throughout are endlessly impressive and irresistible. Bodega are the furthest thing from a one trick pony as is imaginable and the blending of genres and approaches that fill this album to the brim provide endless intrigue and energy that is hard to match. This is a band that will never shy away from posing difficult questions to themselves and the audience and one that does so with extreme thought and care. Broken Equipment has a depth to it that will never exhaust itself, reaching a new level of highs for such a brightly creative group of artists.