Since unknowingly bursting onto the scene in 2021, Mike Maple and company have continued to self-produce power-pop gold at a freakish rate that's typically reserved for Guided By Voices. Hell Is An Airport is Liquid Mike's fifth full-length since 2021 and first following last year's well-documented breakthrough. They're still breaking out of their own self-destructive cycles. But even though the adjustments on their new album are minor, this band of Midwest workhorses keep firing on all cylinders.
Maple recently quit his job delivering the daily mail, but that hasn’t changed how Liquid Mike operates. Hell Is An Airport was recorded, mixed and mastered literally in-house with no additional fuss. It takes all but two seconds of knob tuning before "Instantly Wasted" erupts like a shotgunned beer. Despite chugging through albums, the band’s well of big and joyously sloppy guitars remains overflowing. A double shot of whammy bar sends "Groucho Marx" flying off its bushy handle. "Selling Swords" at a soon-to-be condemned mall sure sounds dull, but taking a chip off the old alt-country block only sharpens its hooks.
Even all the underlying fears and self-loathing on Hell Is An Airport can't kill Liquid Mike's buzz. Last we heard from the band, they were busy dwelling on what life can possibly offer in a summer town like frosty Marquette, Michigan. Turns out, there's still not much to do but fold the laundry. Except on this album, Maple is more concerned with his personal trappings. Like a hungover passenger dragging their baggage between endless gate changes, he's stuck in limbo between who he wants to be and the well-intentioned dude who lets fruit rot on the counter: "You spring one leak / And the whole ship goes." Indiscretion hasn't come as such a sweet sigh of relief since Evan Dando was the sexiest man in Modern Rock.
I could dock Hell Is An Airport points for
following a well-charted course. Liquid Mike's commitment to low-fidelity will earn those low-hanging comparisons to GBV, Dinosaur Jr.
and other legendary slackers. But it's my humble belief that indie rock
would be in a better place if more bands were this good at playing to
their strengths. The way the title track waits before blowing out your
speakers works better than when Green Day pulled that trick 25 years
ago. Besides, it's not like Liquid Mike are covering their tracks. Heck,
their guiding influences are spelled out with all the subtlety of an
actual billboard. The pit-stained groove of "'99" fondly recalls the
summer that butt rock wafted through Ozzfest. For how deeply "Liam
Gallagher" buries an ass-shaking tambourine in the mix, Maple's tongue
couldn't be further in-cheek when he shouts: "You provide no innovation
to the world."
In a day and age where even groundbreaking artists push
boundaries that are best left untouched, there's something admirable – or rather, enviable – about a band that's simply improving upon what
comes naturally. With each album, Liquid Mike have gotten better at
chopping down their songs until nothing could possibly bore us before
getting to the chorus. Hell Is An Airport repeats that pattern
with greater success. "Crop Circles" only broaches the three-minute mark
because the riff is so diesel-powered it could sever the obligatory
bind of familial ties. Honestly, my one formal complaint is that this
album didn't arrive during the dead of summer. With its molten keyboard
melody, "Meteor Hammer" hits the sweet spot like a cold one after
another hellish day at the office.
If there's a case for Hell Is An Airport as Liquid
Mike's best album, it's that they're now more of a band than ever.
Maple even takes a backseat on the speedier "Grand Am" by handing the
songwriting keys to drummer Cody Marecek. What started as a dorm room
collaboration with multi-instrumentalist Monica Nelson has quickly grown
into a five-piece machine greased by extra fuzz from guitarist Dave
Daignault and now, turntable scratches that call back to a time when
Beck was where it's at. Nothing feels forced. Like a seasoned bartender,
they've learned when a garnish is needed to keep their power-pop powder
keg from falling flat. "Claws" is about anxiety, not crushing hard
seltzer: "You've gotten slow / You'll never play again," as Zack
Alworden's bass bubbles below, what should rise above the sleepless
waves like a sight for sore eyes but warm rays of cornet.
Liquid Mike may need to really shake things up eventually. But Hell Is An Airport only goes to show that day isn't coming anytime soon. After all, why reinvent the wheel when you've already discovered fire?
