Three songs are all SMARM need to sketch a fully formed identity on ‘SMARM,’ a debut that wastes no time announcing its intent and even less time polishing it for wider approval. What emerges across the EP is a band that understands velocity not as a gimmick but as a structural principle, each track built to strike, pivot, and vanish before self-consciousness can creep in.
“Lick the Fist” opens with a guitar figure that feels almost ceremonial in its directness, as if it exists solely to clear space for what follows. Eric Stein and Sam Richardson lock into a dual-guitar approach that favors abrasion over ornament, yet the playing is far from careless. The riff lands with precision, then splinters into quick, needling accents that suggest a shared instinct for when to hold and when to rupture. Beneath them, Liam Dolan pushes his bass lines forward with a blunt, almost confrontational tone, refusing to sit back in the mix. Drew Decker’s drumming, full of tightly coiled rolls and sudden emphatic strikes, keeps the track in a state of constant agitation without letting it tip into chaos.
If the opener establishes the band’s physical language, “Cut Out” sharpens it into something more volatile. The song moves with a kind of anticipatory impatience, as though it can barely tolerate its own duration. The guitars seem to lurch ahead of the beat, then snap back into alignment, creating a sense of propulsion that feels instinctive rather than calculated. Vocals, traded and doubled, arrive less as a singular voice than as a collective shove, their rough harmonization adding to the sense that the band is operating as a unit rather than a hierarchy. The effect is not polish but compression: ideas packed tightly enough that they threaten to burst.
By the time “Make Something Happen” arrives, the tempo relaxes just enough to reveal another dimension of the group’s approach. What might initially register as a slowdown becomes an opportunity for weight. The mid-tempo pacing allows the interplay between instruments to stretch out, giving Dolan’s bass more room to assert its presence while Stein and Richardson carve out broader, more deliberate shapes. Decker’s snare hits land with a heavier insistence here, anchoring the track without dulling its edge. The title reads almost as a statement of purpose, and the band answers it not by escalating intensity but by demonstrating control; showing that economy, when applied correctly, can hit just as hard.
Part of what makes ‘SMARM’ compelling is its refusal to overstate itself. The EP does not posture as a revival or a correction; it simply operates according to its own internal logic, one rooted in immediacy, physicality, and a clear sense of collective momentum. The interplay between Stein and Richardson avoids the usual lead-versus-rhythm dichotomy, instead forming a shifting surface where roles blur and reconfigure in real time. Dolan and Decker, rather than merely supporting, act as equal partners in shaping the band’s impact, their contributions giving the songs both drive and dimension.
The Cincinnati lineage of hard-edged garage rock lingers in the background, but SMARM do not lean on it as a crutch. What they offer here feels less like homage and more like continuation, music made with an awareness of what came before, yet unconcerned with measuring up to it. ‘SMARM’ captures a band at the moment when instinct overrides hesitation, when the desire to play is still inseparable from the reasons it began in the first place. It is a brief release, but not a slight one. Each track lands with intent, leaves its mark, and exits without ceremony, suggesting a group more interested in impact than endurance. If this is an introduction, it is one delivered at full volume and without apology, setting a foundation that feels both immediate and durable.
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