If you find yourself asking how much of the buzz around Panchiko is the legend of their re-discovery and comeback and how much is genuine musical appreciation, then seeing them live provides a great answer to the question. The crowd at Le Poisson Rouge on Tuesday was excited and eager, and skewing younger than one might expect, all clamoring to see a group of guys who recorded their infamous lost-then-found EP D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L before many of these fans were even born. Such is the power of music, and the power of the Internet.
The first openers LSD and The Search For God hail from San Francisco, and make dreamy, psychy shoegaze music. The five piece group were a good choice to start the night off, keeping the crowd’s attention with a lot of wobbly, phasey guitar and a very solid rhythm section. The vocals didn’t seem to draw much attention away from the instrumental interludes, rather weaving into the entire soundscape. I found myself a big fan of their guitar tones and their sound overall.
Horse Jumper of Love provided the second act, and mellowed things out a bit, turning their own shoegaze and indie sounds into slowcore territory. The Boston-based three piece played with dynamic changes, but didn’t lose the crowd’s interest in the quieter parts. The songs that utilized these quiet-loud and start-stop techniques were greatly enhanced by some excellent drumming.
Panchiko are obviously enjoying their newfound fame. They emerged on the stage to a triumphantly cheeky walk-on song and were greeted with rapturous cheers before launching into “Stuck,” a track from their Ferric Oxide demos compilation. Everyone was on point—original members Owain Davies on guitar and vocals, Andy Wright on guitar and keys, and Shaun Ferreday on bass, with new guitarist Robert Harris and drummer John Schofield—and the venue sound was perfectly mixed. Having another guitarist really thickens the sound of the band, and their indie-shoegaze-math rock mix was almost too big for the mid-sized venue.
Panchiko at LPR (photo by Kate Hoos)
Throughout the 15 song set they mixed in material from the D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L and Kicking Cars EPs, Ferric Oxide and their new album Failed At Math(s) (which we covered here.) Highlights of the set for me were “Stabilisers For Big Boys,” “Laputa,” “Gwen Everest,” and the killer single “Until I Know.” Davies’ voice is already compelling on recorded material but absolutely shines on stage, stretching out into melismatic moments that soared. All the guitar riffs sounded amazing as well, with Wright once jokingly pointing out his own great guitar solo.
Spirits were high both on stage and in the room, and the crowd seemed to be familiar with all of the material, turning songs like “D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L” into singalongs. It went a long way toward proving that the appeal of Panchiko is not just the novelty of their internet fame, or the quirkiness of the disc rot that had taken over the first CD that was uncovered—these are damn good songs. Still, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a surreal feeling for Panchiko to have music they wrote as teenagers suddenly become so popular that over twenty years later other teenagers are singing every word, or if that feeling will ever wear off.
Everyone I spoke to had heard of the band through posts on the Internet. One twenty-something fan told me he lived “in the woods” and only came to the city a couple times per year; he had judged Panchiko to be worth this effort. Before the band even started playing, fans up front were handing over albums to be signed as the stage was set, to which the band members happily obliged. After the show there was a crowd of people waiting for more autographs, and eager fans yelling for stage crew to throw them setlists and such, with a fervent enthusiasm usually seen at performances of larger pop artists. It was honestly charming. (Anyone who finds themselves complaining about “kids these days” should take a look back at themselves as a teen.)
Panchiko at LPR (photo by Kate Hoos)
Most local shows I go to these days are at bars, and when I attend larger venues it tends to be for older bands with many older fans. This was the first all ages show I’ve been to in a while that was really all ages. Instead of making me feel old (your humble reviewer is 40) I found it uplifting. Sometimes it’s nice to see that good music and the appreciation of it is timeless. Much like Panchiko’s rediscovered music, the scene survives.
(Shoutout to the fan who brought the Rei Ayanami plush and was waving her around like a lightstick! The intersection of Panchiko—who used a panel from Mint na Bokura as an album cover and reference Laputa—and anime nerds is real.)
(Also I’d like to remind fans of all ages that yes, you still tip the bartender on sodas.)
Scroll down for setlist, pics of the show (photos by Kate Hoos)
Setlist: Stuck, Stabilisers For Big Boys, Number 8, Sodium Chloride, Think That’s Too Wise, Cut, Untitled, Until I Know, Failed At Maths, NeilSSong, Laputa, Gwen Everest, All They Wanted, D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L, Kicking Cars
According to their bio, Miranda and The Beat formed in true gritty rock and roll fashion: singer Miranda Zipse and drummer Kim Sollecito moved to NYC from small town California, where they shared a bed in an apartment, “giving up all their possessions and sacrificing a tawdry normal existence to lead a true path of illuminated rock n’roll.” They met Dylan Fernandez when he was delivering weed and added him as a Farfisa player; current bassist Alvin Jackson is his little brother, replacing former member Kate Gutwald. Their self titled debut album Miranda and The Beat is imbued with soul, brimming with garage-rock guitar, 60’s psych-tinged organ and funky beats. The overall effect is one of standing in a funhouse, floor tilting underneath and mirrors reflecting back a swirling lava lamp of colors.
The lead track “Sweat” kicks everything off with a slinky, soulful melody that evokes a hot summer night and crowded rooms, and apparently hangover sweats (“all up in my crack.”) The color saturated, out of focus music video pairs perfectly with the song, which sets the tone for the record with Zipse’s frantic guitar and strong voice punctuating the groovy beats.
The follow up single “Concrete” is more of an upbeat, dance-punk number, probably the most head-bopping track to be found here.
The songs on the album have a similar sound but are executed with different moods: “I’m Not Your Baby” and “When Are You Coming Home” slink along with an atmosphere that wouldn’t be out of place in a Bond film, and “Not My Guy” is a waltzy, jangly ballad primed for a slow dance in a near empty club under a twirling mirrorball.
Miranda and The Beat isn’t a long album, clocking in at ten songs with none over four minutes (the shortest, “ODR,” is a 42 second blast of quickly building garage-rock catharsis) and is pretty much the dictionary definition of “all killer, no filler.” The record sounds great too, with mixing and production from Nick Zinner of Yeah Yeah Yeahs. It’s easy to follow the line from Miranda and The Beat’s earliest singles like 2018’s “Dont Play Me” to 2020’s “Such A Fool” 7-inch that came out on Third Man, to this full length debut, and see a maturing of their sound and style.
If you cue up Antarctica, the latest record from Connecticut- based waveform*, you’ll find dream-pop, shoegaze, emo, bedroom-pop, even country. As you can maybe guess from that sentence, it can be hard to pin down a “sound” to describe waveform*. There definitely is a mood here, though: the sun setting through the window of a lonely bedroom, a long drive alone, a casual jam with stoned friends in a basement. RIYL nostalgia, ennui, great guitar work, and “Everything’s Ruined” by Fountains of Wayne, basically.
Waveform* aren’t unknown around these parts of Brooklyn, but I personally heard of them for the first time when I spotted a flyer on my street. The night was still and cold, I was probably a bit too drunk; these are perfect vibes for Antarctica. Jarett Denner and Dan Poppa are the duo behind the band (it’s a short list of personnel: Denner, Poppa, bass on “Antarctica” and “In My Drink” by Sarah Widmann and a co-writing credit to B. Reid Dyer on “Freak Me Out) and they’ve managed to concoct an album that’s both catchy and hard to pin down.
Antarctica opens languidly with the single “Lonely,” a dreamy song with a gorgeous country-tinged guitar solo that sets the tone for the rest of the songs. Next up is “Firework,” a harder-edged grungy track with a crescendo that hits, recedes, and then returns (and also features a great solo.) These first two standouts were also the first two singles, and they were well chosen.
Other highlights on the album include “Ocean” which is airy and cold with a syncopated drumbeat, and “Ballroom,” a surreal whirling 6/8 tune. “In My Drink” is a lazy waltz with one of the prettiest slow guitar solos I’ve heard in a while layered over acoustic strumming and lyrics that sound personal but puzzling: “in the morning we laughed and pretended / that we could love each other again / don’t let yourself confuse wind with the rain / my promise to you.”
In fact, the lyrics in many of these songs are poetic but difficult to tease meaning from, like in “Firework” (“all the bees in the world give a shit / and the flowers always take a hit / for the world you don’t let go / could you benefit a crow”). There are more universal feelings here as well, though, like on “Lonely” (“come home early in the morning / kiss me when you go / i get happy when you call me / on the telephone”).
Overall this record has a lot in common with waveform*’s previous albums, although Antarctica is a bit more expansive, with the band well settled into their sound, however you choose to describe it. With four albums and a split since 2017, waveform* show no signs of slowing down, and their creativity seems to know no bounds.
If you like a rocking indie Americana vibe, Leathered are the best in the biz, and “Prayer” is indeed a three minute slice of what Leathered does best: crunchy guitar, crisp drums, loping bass and Amanda B. Jun’s slightly weathered, strong voice over everything. Their album A Reckoning was one of my favorites last year, and “Prayer” is a track from that release, now debuting as a single with a music video directed by visual artist and musician Holly Overton. We are thrilled to give you the exclusive first look!
Of the song, Jun shares: “There seems to be an escalation of—and tolerance for—senseless, daily acts of violence. Every day. The mass shootings, the murders against Black, disabled and trans folks, wars, the increasing restrictions on basic bodily autonomy and self-determination…it feels like there is no relief. This song is definitely a prayer.”
The video was shot at Brooklyn’s Sunview Luncheonette and Trinity Cemetery, and features the band walking around the cemetery and playing at the diner, with Jun as a server and members of fellow Brooklyn band Frida Kill appearing as customers. The juxtaposition of the subway train passing by the cemetery, movement beside stillness, is perfect imagery for the song (the diner may perhaps be on the train at times.) Overton shares “The tone of the song is sincere and existential, so I kept the treatment of the visuals pretty straightforward…We talked about the diner as this neutral place [where] most any kind of person can find respite from the weight of the world.”
The story behind Panchiko and their re-discovery and comeback has reached legendary status in Internet music circles. How could it not? It’s an inspiring tale with a happy ending: an enigmatic CD from an unheard of band recorded in 2000 was discovered in a used bin in 2016, and after a search spanning 4chan, Reddit, and Discord, the band was located in 2020. (Justin Whang has a good history on YouTube here.) Instead of simply acknowledging the record and maybe selling some copies on Bandcamp, Panchiko did what probably every musician who used to have a band in high school wishes they could do: they reunited and started making new music. And beyond any skeptical expectations…they’re still very good.
Failed At Math(s) has much in common musically with their first EP D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L and the second EP the band revealed existed, Kicking Cars. Partly this can be explained by some songs being demos from years past, but it’s also just Panchiko’s natural style, still strong after all these years. Yet there is a progression here, with evolving song construction and better realized compositions.
That first album had a nostalgic sound on mine and other’s first encounter two decades later because of the passage of time, but it was also forward looking back then, and this has helped Panchiko’s new music still feel fresh. Shoegaze, math rock, and even trip hop all come together in a melange of styles on Failed At Math(s), with an atmosphere that at times reminds me of Kid A era Radiohead. Fans of ambient music, lo-fi pop, and vaporwave styles that have become popular in the intervening years will also enjoy this album—one doesn’t need to know anything about the music that reigned when Panchiko first formed to enjoy this new record, and I think that shows what true talent these guys have that’s been lying dormant all this time.
The original lineup of Panchiko consisted of Owain Davies (vocals, guitar and sampling), Andrew Wright (guitar, keyboards and sampling), Shaun Ferreday (bass and effects), and a drummer named John; the first three are all here again, while Robert Harris has joined as a second guitarist and John Schofield provides the drums. For old schoolmates to click this well after two decades says something about the band’s artistic chemistry. They had this to say about reconvening:
Highly specialised conditions were cultivated in order to emulate the writing process of 20 years ago:
Sat on the sofa.
Surrounded by snacks.
Games consoles and music machines were sampled, lyrics mumbled and 3 chord progressions were strummed over drum loops and blips and bloops.
The title track “Failed At Math(s)” kicks right in with Panchiko’s now well-known signature sampling along with gentle vocal melodies, managing to be gliding and groovy and finger-snapping all at once on this “song about how the precursor to realising a vaguely acceptable, if still somewhat disappointing, end result, is acknowledging and casting off the patterns that lead us to fail over and over (and over) again.”
The single “Portraits” is languid yet angular, and according to the band “based around the thought that each of us is the culmination of the generations that precedes us. Every experience and encounter shapes us and adds to our story.” A music video by animator Shunsaku Hayashi serves as a fitting complement.
This is followed by another single, “Until I Know,” which has one of the catchiest guitar riffs I’ve heard in recent years—I’m not lying when I say I can’t stop hitting repeat on this song, which is described by the band as “top down cruising misery pop.” Miserable or not, it’s also an instant classic.
The instrumental “Breakfast Seance” follows those three lead tracks, and feels like the soundtrack to a spy movie. “Find It” (A Song)” is synthy with a vocal melody that veers off into a nearly modern pop-R&B direction. Throughout the record, Davies’ voice is still gorgeous, going from a haunting croon on tracks like “Until I Know” to soaring heights on “Gwen Everest,” which aims perhaps the highest of all the tracks on Failed At Math(s), with shoegaze dynamics, epic guitars and punching drums, while lasting only a surprising 3 minutes. That’s the story for many of these songs, and the length usually works; the exception is “Think That’s Too Wise,” a fast, fuzzy song that I wanted a bit more of. (I also wanted more of that interesting bassline in the mix.)
“Rocking With Keith,” the only song that lasts more than around three and a half minutes, is a great choice of closer, an instrumental with a glitchy-piano intro, middle lull, and triumphant crescendo up to the end. Choosing to make Failed At Math(s) only eight tracks long works out: each song seems deliberately chosen with no filler. It would have been tempting for Panchiko to shoot what may be their only comeback shot and go big with a longer album, but they seem to have decided this was enough. Whether that’s because the record felt right at this length (and it does) or if that’s all they felt like doing, I’m unsure. I hope it’s the former, because I’d love to hear more albums from them in the future.
Panchiko (photo by Tom Morley)
The original members, only 16 and 17 when they first formed the band, obviously have their own lives now—Wright became a sound engineer and played in the band Swimming, Davies became an educator, and Ferreday (who had sold his guitars and not played music in years) became a tree surgeon. But they are touring now in support of Failed At Math(s), which shows that music still calls to them. They will be in NYC for two shows at Le Poisson Rouge on 5/30 and 5/31, and I’m looking forward to catching at least one of these. It’s a sentimental feeling, but I think once music lives inside you, there’s no real way to quench that flame. Panchiko appeal to me both behind the scenes and in my headphones, and if I’m honest, they inspire me.
