Like Ariel Pink or the chillwave folks, Oakland’s Warm Soda use nostalgia as an instrument. The quartet’s debut album, Someone for You, is intentionally lo-fi and one-dimensional to the extreme: Every tom-tom fill sounds like it was played with one finger on a Casio; every snarled hook and guitar solo is swathed in trebly hiss. It plays like a crackling FM transmission from the late ‘70s—or a warped cassette found in a piss-soaked dumpster behind an anonymous inner-city bar. It’s an ugly, love-it-or-loathe-it approach—and ultimately a distraction from their expertly crafted songs. paste
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