With something like telepathy, the four began cultivating a scrambled grammar as legible at a backyard punk show as it would be in a stadium setting. Unwieldy, humorous, sexy, ruthless, the Street Fruit landscape is rigged with trap doors that drop the bottom out of rock ‘n’ roll, aerial views of rant-punk that leave just enough out, and alleys emptying into sunburnt boombox jams with cardboard laid out for passersby to dance.

FFO The Hard Quartet The Stooges New York Dolls Destroyer

With their sophomore release, Street Fruit returns with a sound that’s fermented, distilled, and matured into ripe, smooth, sonic wine. Notes of smoke shrouded, velvet lined cocktail lounges and lipstick stains linger on the tongue. Lead single “Drug Face” sets the tone for the record’s eclectic terrain: a cautionary tale hung with psychedelic blues and wah-wah guitar, hot distortion, and a gospelesque nursery rhyme chorus that rings out lucidly among static kaleidoscopic eruptions. “Hey Operator” gently engages with jazz, with its brush groove, marimba, and rich, melodic bass. The penultimate “Specular Moons” leans into the world of west coast indie; a charming guitar riff refreshes like cold lemonade after the heat of the previous songs. Bluesy, groovey, playful, soulful, Strange Tanks keeps the art of rock ‘n’ roll movin’ in the 21st century.