Without hearing their music, it would be reasonable to assume MSPAINT is a hardcore band. The Hattiesburg, Mississippi quartet spent the past three years opening for the likes of Soul Glo, Militarie Gun, and Gel with a fervor that goes toe-to-toe with the headliners. But MSPAINT come from a college town known for “lighthearted” music, and their synth-punk is an unlikely contender for the co-sign of national hardcore bands: “I feel like a jester up there, watching people fucking spin-kick each other to our music,” vocalist Deedee recently admitted. On their debut album Post-American, MSPAINT introduce themselves as a band whose barked vocals are better fit for retro synths, experimental electronica, and blown-out bass. Consider them an industrial art-punk group that sits with the Doc Marten anarchists at the cafeteria table.
Exhausted by playing in rock bands, all four members of MSPAINT—vocalist Deedee, bassist Randy Riley, drummer Quinn Mackey, and Nick Panella on synthesizers—founded the project on a two-part promise: no guitars, and, apart from Mackey on drums, everyone picks up a new-to-them role. That decision led to their experimental sound and 2020’s self-titled EP. The confidence to pull it all off, however, didn’t arrive until now. Post-American is self-assured in its sound and direct in its approach, often thanks to its aggressive rhythm section. Riley cranks his fuzz pedal so loud that you can hear a bit of feedback in “Titan of Hope” from his bass’ volume alone. Combined with Mackey’s hard-hitting fills and emphasis on upbeats—particularly on “Hardwired” and “Decapitated Reality,” which features Pierce Jordan of Soul Glo—MSPAINT’s status as the token alternative act on hardcore bills makes sense: How could Riley’s blistering riffs and Mackey’s racing drumbeats on “Information” not start a mosh pit?
Post-American is rooted in punk rhythms as a guiding spirit; the synths and electronic add-ons are a complement to Deedee’s hopeful lyrics, a method that pays homage to artists like DEVO and SOPHIE who viewed synths as a storytelling instrument. Taking cues from childhood technology, like the dissonant screeches of dial-up and alien zaps of fax machines, MSPAINT incorporate sounds from the past to image a more peaceful future. Panella’s synths morph from jaunty ’80s chords in the Ian Shelton-featuring “Delete It” to melodic drones fit for stoner prog on the title track, leading the band to jokingly describe their genre as “post-modeM.” In “Flowers From Concrete,” a tranquil synth intro flutters like a harp before speaker-rattling bass explodes and Panella switches gears, transitioning to wavy notes that sound like the neon beam of a campy alien abduction and finally, by the end, a straightforward keyboard interlude to slow your heart rate. This is MSPAINT’s secret skill: casting a strangely placating effect despite the rhythmic frenzy and gruff hollers holding their music up.
Despite his urgent bellow, Deedee isn’t singing from a place of anger. Following the unbothered flow of underground hip-hop, his syllabic meter gives lines like “Guillotine will decide who’s separated in classes” or “Inherit death like a birthright/Eyes open up but your spirit stays closed tight” the casual feel of an MF DOOM track, no matter how loudly he’s shouting. For a guy with such a booming voice, Deedee seems bent on using it to spread some good. He sings about what the future can and should offer, instead of lamenting what the present lacks. On “S3,” Deedee compartmentalizes thoughts in a push for self-growth. Throughout “Titan of Hope,” he waxes positive nihilism in a game of contrasts meant to inspire. Deedee’s penmanship is the final garnish on an album defined by unexpected combinations. His presence as a frontman instills a humble profundity in MSPAINT’s music, a feeling that lingers after the dust settles from all the unintended mosh pits it spawns.
