The Sounding Board
A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.
Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. We’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely underheard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments. This week I’m breaking format to cover the two (!) excellent albums Twisted Teens have released in the past six months.
In the likely event Twisted Teens have staying power, their 2026 will be the sort of thing music obsessives look back on with reverence and amused disbelief.
The New Orleans duo, which consists of former neighbors “Razor” Ramon “RJ” Santos on steel guitar and Caspian “CPN” Hollywell on guitar, vocals, bass, drums and synthesizer, is in the midst of a rapid-fire run of high-quality releases that makes Ty Segall look like Kevin Shields.
In February, Twisted Teens released Blame the Clown,1 a fidgety album that exists within the small, dank and craggy space where the Sonics, the Bottle Rockets and the Velvet Underground overlap.2 Last month saw the release of the band’s second LP of the year, Florida Water Blues, which shows a slightly moodier and more experimental side of the band without straying too far from the sound — Hollywell ‘s charmingly strained bark set to churning, rough-hewn rock with streaks of caramelized steel twang — that earned its predecessor admirers. Before the year is over, Hollywell and Santos are expected to release another album, Holy Cross Tigers, which they described to Paste’s Matt Mitchell as their equivalent of Blood on the Tracks.3
If the upcoming LP is up to snuff with the band’s recent work, Twisted Teens will be responsible for three of the year’s best albums.
Blame the Clown and Florida Water Blues are each very good lo-fi rock problems on their respective terms. However, they are even greater when considered as a sort of delayed-release double album. The two LPs, which were recorded simultaneously, are two sides of the same coin. The albums contrast and complement each other to create a meandering and avant-garde dirtbag rock opus that is both epic in scope and rife with oddly specific interiority. The songs amalgamate to form a playlist where a track is as likely to be about circumcision as it is to be about blown cash or the dire impact of toxic water. Yearning steel, jaunty guitar, percussion that slices through the air like a helicopter rotor, MIDI hymns and more all mingle in imperfect harmony.
Hollywell and Santos have described the two albums as balancing opposites, positioning Blame the Clown as a burst of manic energy and Florida Water Blues as a depressive wallow. All the happy, peppy songs are on one album and the sad, stranger songs are on the other, in this version of events. There’s some truth to the raging party-rueful hangover dichotomy, but it’s an exaggeration. It’s really all one wild binge that slowly curdles as the reverie loses energy and the conversation turns to darker, weightier topics. But while the slow deterioration of the human body and the toxic harm mankind has inflicted on the earth become motifs, the good times never really end. The inky darkness seeps in, and Twisted Teens simply party around the spreading dark stain.
Blame the Clown really is the shorter, faster and brighter album, and Florida Water Blues is longer, more subdued and frequently preoccupied with impending doom when compared to its predecessor. However, the delta between the two albums isn’t especially expansive, and if all 24 of the albums’ tracks were shuffled, it wouldn’t be especially easy to guess which song belonged to which LP.4
There are compact rockers on Florida Water Blues, like the driving, barely 130-second bop “Top of the World Hwy No. 2.” Conversely, there are plenty of bleak ruminations and sonic screwballs on Blame the Clown. The brief, warbling oddity, “Corpse Pose,” which closes Blame the Clown, could easily work as an interstitial anywhere on Florida Water Blues, and “Not Real,” which includes the lyrics “There’s a punishment for being honest/ With yourself/ Or with the others/ Made to mask at an early age/ Repress all expressions of rage/ You’ll become automatically compliant/ And you’ll get a diagnosis if you get to fight,” fits in with Florida Water Blues’ blunt fatalism.
The lack of difference between long-players is made up for by the eclecticism inherent to Twisted Teens’ sound. While Hollywell’s voice and fantastically cruddy fidelity provide a baseline level of homogeneity, the duo tries a lot of different things out across Blame the Clown and Florida Water Blues. “Javelina” ambles with a Western bounce, “Concealed Weeping”5 marches forward with an ominous post-punk inflection, rollicking keys and crackling vocal samples shine on “Little Seed,” and “Weather the Season” is a sandblasted slow dance complete with a recitation section. It all sounds authentically and unmistakably like Twisted Teens.
Whether they’re being silly, sappy, bleak or blissful, that’s a good thing.
About the writer
Ben Hohenstatt
Ben Hohenstatt is an Alaska-based dog owner who moonlights as a music writer and photographer.
For more information, consult your local library or with parental permission visit his website.
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The Sounding Board
A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.
The Sounding Board
A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.
The Sounding Board
A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.
The Sounding Board
This week I'm breaking format to rank the albums I've written about this year.
The Sounding Board
A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.
Department of
Conversation
What did we watch?
Masters of the Universe – a couple of friends unexpectedly raved about this and I wasn’t sure I really trusted their opinions, but then one of them pointed out that it had Brian May relentlessly soloing over the soundtrack and I realised I had to check it out. I’ve often said that it’s a big shame that Flash Gordon and Highlander were the only two Queen Movies we got because their music is so much fun matched up with big colourful action-adventure. Obviously this isn’t quite the same but it’s definitely a fun throwback to that era. As for the rest of the film, it’s nostalgic and silly and pretty enjoyable throughout, I’m not going to join those two friends in gushing over it but I had a good time and don’t really have any major criticisms. It’s a good example of the kind of thing it’s trying to be, kinda similar to that D&D movie from a couple of years ago but apparently with a more limited target audience.
Superstore, Season One, Episode Nine, “All Nighter”
“Hey, Myrtle! Break out your hysterectomy story!”
Glenn applauding while explaining the all nighter situation is a classic gag.
“I was born with a drill in my hand!”
Cheyenne looks down at her belly.
“Yeah, words.”
“What a unique experience it must be. Moving around a store on wheels.”
“Isn’t that his shirt?”
“I think we broke Glenn.”
“Never have I ever eaten human flesh. No, you drink when you have done it.”
“I understand.”
“Now we got Glenn, rocking the ‘don’t let him near children’ attire!”
“Usually when I get drunk, I talk really loud, but I’m not doing it now!”
“Can you make me look like her?”
“Like a black woman? I’m not a witch.”
“Just ever since my dad left me at that gas station, it’s so hard to trust.”
“Okay, here we go.”
“I did not see that coming. But I should have.”
“But alas… it is discouraged.”
“For what it’s worth, that was shaping up to be a really nice metaphor.”
“You can tell Dickie Larson he can suck my big fat sweaty toe!”
“It is good to be outside! I’m gonna go home to play some video games.”
“Why are you dressed like my mother?”
Tales from the Crypt, “Dig That Cat … He’s Real Gone” and “Only Sin Deep”
Joey Pants takes center stage in “Dig That Cat,” playing a man who gets a cat’s nine lives via experimental surgery and–encouraged by his doctor, who wants a cut of the proceeds to fund more of his research–becomes a carnival attraction, Ulric the Undying. Some of the logic here is off–I understand why people would pay for a chance at some consequence-free murder, and the satire in the shooting gallery section is nicely acerbic, but who’s paying to see a guy be buried alive and then dug up hours later when they won’t even be there? But Pants is slimy and jittery enough to sell everything, there are some nice mid-episode developments, and the ultimate twist is a fun one.
I was preemptively annoyed at “Only Sin Deep” for dinging its sex worker lead for the vanity of caring about her appearance, when that’s pretty key to how she makes her living and when women are so frequently forced into this annoying position of being expected to look gorgeous (and often being more harshly penalized than men if they’re not) but also stigmatized as vain and tryhard for revealing that any work goes into that … but thankfully, this pivots to mostly make Lea Thompson’s character pay for the less-gendered sins of underestimating magic and committing impulsive murder. It puts her in a real bind and ultimately finds a surprisingly real note of pathos to her fate: her trying to gather together the pieces of the broken plaster mold of her face is final image that lingers.
Disliked “Only Sin Deep” and similarly liked “Dig That Cat” – I got the impression his episodes let Donner go into a more chaotic/weirder mode than normal.
What did we listen to?
1001 Albums, etc. – storming into the 90s!
De La Soul – Three Feet High and Rising: torn between praising this one for being genuinely excellent or lamenting the introduction of comedy skits between songs, they just about get away with it here but it’s an annoying precedent. Really fun colourful hip-hop album though.
Janet Jackson – Rhythm Nation 1814: an enjoyable listen but lacking in big hooks to keep me invested. The book says this ranks alongside “Off the Wall” in terms of Jackson-family albums, I guess a lot of it is personal taste but I definitely lean more towards the big melodies in Michael’s stuff over the slick R&B here.
Jungle Brothers – Done by the Forces of Nature: the act I was least familiar with in this late-80s run, I enjoyed their laid-back hip-hop and can see a lot of its influence on the more indie-leaning rap stuff I enjoy now, although it doesn’t make for as strong a first impression as De La Soul or…
NWA – Straight Outta Compton: another dangerous precedent here, the harder-edged sound here leads into the gun-obsessed swaggering hip-hop stuff I’ve never found appealing. But NWA do it so damn well, and I love that so many of these songs inform us that Ice Cube is “fucking crazy”. The last song being a kinda dance-rap that feels better suited to Will Smith or something is a bit unexpected, but I really enjoyed this.
(decade break)
Cocteau Twins – Heaven or Las Vegas: hell yeah, the other Cocteaus album on the list didn’t quite live up to my expectations after loving a few singles over the years, but this one did. Such a killer dreamy sound with big melodies and swooping vocals, really great.
The Shamen – En-Tact: hmm, a bit too minimal and low on personality for my electronic tastes. “Move Any Mountain” is a killer earworm and some of this was still surprisingly Kraftwerk-indebted which was a surprise, but… not as good.
Deee-Lite – World Clique: was curious about this one, why is “Groove In the Heart” so iconic but I’d never heard anything else from Deee-Lite? The answer, sadly, is that none of the other songs are very good.
The La’s – The La’s: I knew a few La’s songs (not just “There She Goes”) and found them solidly OK, at album length I actually enjoyed them more than expected. Obviously this is retro to a fault, you could throw it into the late 60s and I probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but the songwriting is consistently strong. Not sure the one song that incorporates a reggae influence really works, but otherwise this was good.
The Black Crowes – Shake Your Money Maker: kinda expected to hate this, bluesy rock & roll is not my thing at all. But it was pretty painless, with some songs that feel like a more down-to-earth version of Aerosmith I guess. I can hear the dangerous route forward from this to some truly egregious later music in the post-grunge era but I guess that’s not REALLY their fault.
—
Blank Check, John Carter – a really fun flop to discuss. I remember checking this out after the post-flop wave of people saying it was actually pretty good, I didn’t think much of it really but the dismal marketing definitely did it no favours.
Trying to keep with the new Ford Focus podcast about the movies of Harrison Ford. Still low energy next to, say Blank Check, but I honestly think 45 minutes about The Mosquito Coast is enough.
Elementary, “Miss Taken” – A retired FBI agent is found in a woodchipper (sorry, no Fargo references), and soon it emerges that he was still looking into the disappearance and return of a girl abducted as a child who escaped her captor as a teen. Only Sherlock quickly releases the girl is an imposter, and a very good one at that. The juice in this one is the cat and mouse game between Sherlock and the girl, who at one point tries to convince Holmes and Watson that the parents killed the real girl themselves. Giving Sherlock a worthy opponent should happen more. Meanwhile, Joan’s novelist stepdad (John Heard) has written a book loosely based on her and Sherlock, and she is not very happy. But it turns out he did it just to recapture his old closeness with her, so all is well. Or would be if it didn’t feel so tacked on. (This is the first time it’s spelled out her name is Watson because she was adopted by her stepfather.) Other guests include Raphael Sbarge and Kathryn Erbe as the parents.
Barney Miller, “Stakeout” – Barney, Fish, Wojo, and a cop we never see again camp out in a vacant apartment to catch a drug deal about to happen, and despite trying to keep their presence on the QT, the whole neighborhood knows. This one is enlivened by the small fleet of character actors here: Vic Tayback as the building manager; Bret Somers as his wife, who speaks Polish to Wojo; Eddie Barth as the random fourth cop; Florence Stanley making her first appearance as Fish’s wife Bernice; and most notably Lou Jacobi as a friendly deli owner who’s been robbed fourteen times in thirty years and gave me my first belly laugh from the show. Directed by sitcom veteran and Emmy winner John Rich.
Two Adam Guettel musicals, The Light In The Piazza and Days of Wine and Roses (his most recent). The former is staggeringly beautiful and I want to listen to it again already. The latter is very obviously a passion project and personal for Guettel as a former raging addict, a two-hander essentially for Kelli O’Hara and Brian D’arcy James. The sound is that of a jazz operetta, Weill crossed with the bop sounds of the Fifties; Guettel is the kind of nepo baby, the grandson of Richard Rodgers and son of Mary Rodgers, who may actually be a genius. All of the musicals of his I’ve listened to have a distinct and specific sound even when they are playing with different genres, going for huge sweeping emotions, keys, and huge melody changes within even the verses. Sondheim was his mentor and it is clear that he is the inheritor of, if not his lyrical cleverness, then the notion of pushing the book musical forward and trying new things in the form.