4 out of 5

Label: Skin Graft Records

Produced by: Justin Weis (remastered by)

Damn, these were some crazy ass mofos, and that is not an appellation I’m tossing out lightly: I’m in the trenches with years of Arab on Radar listens; with Ex-Models in my collection; a hop and a skip to babbling hardcore like Racebannon; or thrashy instrumental like Flying Luttenbachers; and so PLP have company, but man, they’re still a bit crazy.

A duo of keys and synths, Joshua Blanchard (the former) and Nathan Carson (the latter) were tapping in to the early 00s electro punk scene, but in either a miscalculation of how to use that sound for relative fame, or in a fit of “we were here first” dedication, or perhaps just – gasp – out of inspiration and passion and maybe some anarchist verve, the duo twisted the new wave pop of the scene into brutal, spasming Now Wave, wholly befitting of its eventual, remastered home on Skin Graft Records. (The album’s original home on some oddball Portland labels certainly made sense as well, mind you.)

All of the above mentioned acts are pretty good touchpoints for PLP’s attack, though I think the Fort Thunder collective, way on the opposite coast, would’ve provided safe haven: Point Line Plane’s uncontainable shimmy – it’s screeching, but it’s danceable as eff as well – makes sense in the art rock indie world of Portland, but man, the group’s unsettled noise is very much of the AoR / Lightning Bolt camp, where every opportunity to amp up the energy and volume is taken: any synth squeak that sits still for too long and can get some extra tweak added to it is tweaked; any beat that’s too steady absolutely must divert, or must get more intense. Interestingly, though, where this pushes against just being a splatter of keys and beats is on an aptly named track like ‘Improvisation I,’ where the Luttenbachers vibe comes in: Blanchard and Carson are following a muse of chaos, but the emerging rhythms on even this 1.5 minute instrumental bluster shows that’s there’s method to the madness.

The runtime is appreciably short so the music doesn’t wear out its welcome; only when the group starts to lean too much into dark club vibes and singalong vocals – Code : Decode comes closest to the actual electro punk scene – does the music slightly come across as shtick, and there’s not quite enough depth to wring out intended heavier hitting vibes as on 6+ minute closer Deep C. But – the majority of acts that try to rock out at this level run out of steam or ideas near the start of a set like this, getting into their third song and then repeating themselves. PLP might’ve burned fast overall, but they dialed in for the music they put out there, delivering an album that’s still as vicious 20 years after the fact as it must’ve been in the early 00s.