There’s something appealingly unruly about The Scrub Ups. On Thought Bubbles, the New York band takes the familiar bounce of ska-punk and runs it through folk, country and roots-rock machinery, and the ingredients are unusual but rarely feel forced. Banjo, pedal steel, melodica and mandolin sit comfortably alongside a wall of distorted guitars. The result can swing from barroom twang to skanking momentum without stopping to explain itself. Just as importantly, the vocals aren’t dominated by one personality. With the entire band sharing vocal duties, the songs have a communal, slightly chaotic character that perfectly suits the material.
The Scrub Ups clearly know their history, but Thought Bubbles is brilliant because it isn’t content with just looking backward. There are traces of The Clash, The Pogues and The Slackers in their DNA, yet the band’s real personality comes from the collision of influences generating something entirely new and fresh.
Humor and melancholy regularly occupy the same space, sometimes within the same song, and the album also carries the weight of loss, particularly because it’s dedicated to former Barbicide collaborator Mikal Reich, but it avoids turning that grief into a solemn monument. Instead, the record keeps moving, emerging as something loud, playful and triumphant. Thought Bubbles isn’t interested in tidying up its contradictions, and that’s a big part of its charm. It sounds like musicians with enough history behind them to know the rules, and enough curiosity to ignore them.
