Daydream Mystic Operative

Holy shit, Portland punk, chuck me in a rock grinder and turn the motor on supersonic, guillotine the king, chuck his carcass off the end of the plank and let the hammerheads rip it apart. Don’t let the name of the band fool you into thinking this’ll lullaby your brain into a state of theta. This is gamma-wave punk rock and roll, divergent binaural fuzz ripping into focused rapid-fire slash and burn, clear cuts the cop in your head like a chainsaw running on trichlorethylene, short loud and fast like you like it. Pounding your eardrums like a maniac on Benzedrine, slashing your brain like a whipping of razor wire. And when it’s all said and done, maybe you will indeed settle into a theta state of mind. Clear cut the riot police from your brain and give the pine trees room to grow. To free your head, feed the heads of state to the hammerheads, decapitate the heads of state in your mind and bring the dream into the light of day, make your own head the head of state. To understand how something works, sometimes you gotta take a hammer and break it. Mystic Operative manages to balance the unpredictability of post-punk with the groove of garage rock, the fury of hardcore and the recklessness of classic punk. Roll those ingredients into a ball, then watch it roll down the hill and wipe out everything in its path. – Scene Point Blank If you’re into dense, angular, and inventive post-hardcore, this record is a stunner. – Sorry State Records Daydream from Portland deftly maneuver through eleven songs of noisy punk with obvious anarcho leanings and a call for higher consciousness. I do love it when a band incorporates so much into their art and sound that, while it makes my job harder, it only proves that some things just can’t quite be described with mere words. I’m getting hits of everything from Crass, the Wipers, and the Shitty Limits but even then I’m probably shortchanging the band, of which members have previously kicked around in PDX greats such as Physique and Dodlage as well as the Chinchees from Minneapolis. Suddenly, it makes sense why this record is so fucking good. - Razorcake There’s a lot going on, but the hyper-propulsive drums, DEVO-lved guitar stabs, and urgent vocals clatter together in an explosive concoction of progressive punk noise. Thick-necked, spiraling bass riffage and off-kilter weirdness remind me of (a less brooding) Dead AND Gone, or an anarcho-BOREDOMS. Get your ’90s fix without succumbing to nostalgia. Great stuff. – Maximum Rock N Roll