Look – it’s Fall 2024. Can genre revivalism please die? Musicians, critics, and fans alike despise how clickbait factories always feel the need to identify each new wave, trend, and/or interpretation of older styles for new audiences. It’s one thing to identify where the art rests in the broader historical arc, but it’s another thing entirely to conjure up some sort of bullshit name for a flavor-of-the-month microtrend. Writers need to stop relying on catchy terms and start taking the music at face value. If it rocks, it rocks, and that’s all that matters.
Because Miranda and the Beat absolutely rock.
The music industry should preach the gospel of this group’s brand of gritty garage rock and stop thinking about our personal brands. We should be talking about how Can’t Take It delivers driving psycho-punk fury with a slinky edge instead of trying to impress people with the perfect one- or two-word descriptor. Our collective reviews should showcase the band’s huge energy and take-no-prisoners approach, not our personalities. Dual-released on Ernest Jenning Record Co. and Khannibalism, this taut 12-song album needs more of our pointed praise and less of our writerly wordplay.
For starters, Miranda Zipse has this smoky, raspy alto that smolders with barely harnessed feral rage. She’s also a guitar whiz who balances buzzsaw distortion with dark surf vibes and glammy glitz. Alvin Jackson on bass provides this deep, sludgy rumble that somehow also has a rich, anchoring presence. I’m also in awe at the talent exuded by Dylan Fernandez on farfisa, as he lends a decidedly spooky flair that never tumbles into cliché. And lest we forget, Ethan Glenn’s brisk drumming style evokes a crisp, Ringo-esque professionalism that allows everyone else to shine.
Miranda and the Beat waste neither notes nor energy.
The title track and “Anxiety” are direct, in your face, and aggressive. “Earthquake Water” and “El Lobo Negro” are abrasive, yet absolutely on point. It’s like listening to a new-school version of The Bags or X with enhanced musicality and craft. However, the group reaches its creative zenith on the album’s closing triptych, as they sound best when the songs have room to breathe. “Manipulate Me,” “Up In Smoke,” and “The Secret” grab you by the throat and demand your attention by building tension, changing speeds, and manipulating moods.
Am I asking critics to stop being critical? Not at all. In fact, I want critics to get back to actual criticism that educates and informs readers. I do want them to stop worrying about going viral, naming a trend, pivoting to video, and all the other inanities that have weakened music writing over the past decade-plus.
I want to read articles breaking down how and why Miranda and the Beat delight in high-quality retro-futurism that rejects easy descriptions. Give me analyses of how Can’t Take It embraces King Khan and BBQ show in equal measure with Khruangbin, Los Bitchos, and The B-52s. Talk to readers openly about how Zipse writes lyrics that are realistic and lovelorn, the sort of material that delves deep into an artist’s soul yet somehow feels universal.
But maybe that’s just me. The band has definitely grown by leaps and bounds since their 2023 self-titled album while still maintaining some goth roots. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that the band’s penchant for superb grooves in a keen pocket allows them to create remarkable hooks.