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CONVR59 is Nag's Human Coward Coyote LP. Picking up right where they left off on 2021's Observer LP - Human Coward Coyote is an exercise in sprawling post punk tinged with darkwave with roots in hardcore punk. This is a record that hypnotizes as much as it exhilarates, that settles in and explores new sonic territory while remaining concise. This record will welcome you to writhe along with it, it would be rude not to accept.
Our take: We’ve been carrying records from Atlanta’s Nag since they released their first single in 2017, and over the years they have blossomed into a unique and compelling band. I’ve enjoyed every Nag record I’ve heard, but Human Coward Coyote feels like something new and special. While you can hear traces of the sound that landed them a coveted Total Punk single on tracks like “Camoflage,” Human Coward Coyote sounds unbound by genre. The chunky yet crystalline guitars make me think of 90s alternative rock, and the opener “Phangs” is a semi-dirge that sounds like it could have come from the weirder fringes of the early 90s post-Nirvana underground. “Q Laz” takes the menacing rattle of Wire and early Devo and bathes it in industrial gunk, arriving at something akin to the A Frames’ arty clatter, while the guitar lead at the end of “Repulsion” sounds like a psychedelic come-down. There are also even more experimental tracks like “Kismet,” an instrumental meditation centered on a menacing electronic pulse. So much punk rock gets by on speed, power, and energy, but Nag emphasizes atmosphere here, with delay-drenched guitars and disaffected, robotic vocals setting a scene fit for a 60s dystopian sci-fi novel. Human Coward Coyote’s avoidance of big pop hooks might make it a grower, but the variety and richness of texture here keep your ears wanting more.
Our take: We’ve been carrying records from Atlanta’s Nag since they released their first single in 2017, and over the years they have blossomed into a unique and compelling band. I’ve enjoyed every Nag record I’ve heard, but Human Coward Coyote feels like something new and special. While you can hear traces of the sound that landed them a coveted Total Punk single on tracks like “Camoflage,” Human Coward Coyote sounds unbound by genre. The chunky yet crystalline guitars make me think of 90s alternative rock, and the opener “Phangs” is a semi-dirge that sounds like it could have come from the weirder fringes of the early 90s post-Nirvana underground. “Q Laz” takes the menacing rattle of Wire and early Devo and bathes it in industrial gunk, arriving at something akin to the A Frames’ arty clatter, while the guitar lead at the end of “Repulsion” sounds like a psychedelic come-down. There are also even more experimental tracks like “Kismet,” an instrumental meditation centered on a menacing electronic pulse. So much punk rock gets by on speed, power, and energy, but Nag emphasizes atmosphere here, with delay-drenched guitars and disaffected, robotic vocals setting a scene fit for a 60s dystopian sci-fi novel. Human Coward Coyote’s avoidance of big pop hooks might make it a grower, but the variety and richness of texture here keep your ears wanting more.