3 out of 5

Label: Skin Graft Records

Produced by: Timo Ellis

Standard disclaimer: Euguene Robinson’s shtick doesn’t work for me. The brutal intellectual thing; the pairing of Fucks with ten letter words; Oxbow’s eye-rollingly aggressive origin story; Robinson’s collection of martial arts styles and fighting-as-life presentation… It’s not something that works for me, and funneled through his shouty, mealy-mouthed style – it all seems especially performative, and is a big part of why I consider Oxbow art rock, and not art rock I like.

Of course, this dislike can be separate from acknowledging Robinson’s skill in cultivating this persona, and also at being a noteworthy band frontman; additionally, Buñuel are very much not Oxbow, with music providers Xabier Iriondo, Pierpaolo Capovilla, and Franz Valente doing the good work with producer Timo Ellis to deliver some pretty banging riffage, swinging between pummeling metal and pop-adjacent hooks.

The band records remotely – music tracks sent to Robinson to sing over – and I think this helps reign in some of the singer’s indulgences, as tracks are always snappy, and Robinson enthusedly babbling, but in this 2024 outing, there does seem to be a conversation the group has innately learned to have which has pluses and minuses: experimentation and that snappiness are a huge plus; that the music often feels somewhat stitched together from disparate ideas and is rarely directly climactic would be a minus. It makes for an interedting juxtaposition of attention grabbing sound – the harsh pang of the drum production; the very close-to-ear guitar and bass – and rather immemorable music. There’re a bevy of guests here, from Converge, Couch Slut, and more, who frankly make almost no impression.

Paralleling my Eugene rant, this occurs separately from quite liking Bunuel’s sound and approach, which is like tempered math metal – precise, impressive playing that’s not overly showy. There’s a hole for that kind of stuff, with most technical bands committing overreach or indulgence, and even with Bunuel’s patchwork design, they keep their wanderings short and focused. The album packs a punch, just the sting wears off quickly.