The members of San Francisco's Wet Illustrated are no strangers to the local garage punk renaissance. Tim Hellman, one of two guitarists in the band, played bass for Ty Segall on two of his records. Chrys Nodal, the second guitarist, is also a member of Lilac. They even had Tim Cohen of the Fresh & Onlys serve as engineer for their first 7". But for all those associations, Wet Illustrated aren't exactly a "garage band" in the purest sense of "fuzz, hook, repeat." There certainly are hooks, and their vocals are primarily punk-infused yelling, but they also let loose several frantic, gleeful melodies. 1x1x1 is primarily defined by the band's tone, which is alternately flippant and serious.
Their giant melodies are one of the biggest selling points of 1x1x1. "Marketplace" features a fist pumping, rousing, power-pop chorus. The otherwise aggressive "Satellite Kids" calms down in the middle with a soothing mandolin lick. There's another mandolin at the beginning of "Saints" backed by some gentle acoustic-guitar strums; moments later, there's more yelling. That's the sweet and sour duality they're dealing with for most of the album. On one hand, twee-leaning (but never cutesy or saccharine) flourishes. On the other, boisterous yelling and loud guitars. That more aggressive and assertive aesthetic becomes problematic after a while-- ultimately, it's a little over 30 minutes of that largely unswerving, monotonous yelling vocal. After a while, it starts to grate.
The contrasting attitudes of the record give Wet Illustrated several chances to illustrate what they're capable of, though. They can ramp up the punk aggression on a song like "My Head", and within seconds, they're joyously screaming, "Hey hey hey hey," at the opening of "Claws". They do well with each look-- they're convincing while they urgently shout paranoid lyrics over a minor-chord progression, and they sound confidently silly with the more upbeat material. But those contrasting tones have a hard time sitting together after multiple listens, especially when they're contained within the same song. "Herman's Head" is perhaps the worst offender, with its sunny xylophone counterbalanced with obnoxious lyrics and vocal affectations.
But even the most heinous instances of tonal whiplash are fairly forgivable-- Wet Illustrated are, at their core, three goofy-sounding Bay Area punks, and individually, the songs are pretty fun. "Gypsy Town" epitomizes the more erratically joyous aspects of the album, with its sun-baked riff and optimistic lyrics (looking down on the clouds while drunk gypsies spread love around). As lyricists, they use a lot of absurd imagery, which works well with their tone. "Born Stoked" is another sunny story of a blindly optimistic dude named Stevie-- he leaves his job, but he keeps smiling and seeing good in the world. Even if it's anchored by a 1990s surfer buzzword, it's the sort of subject matter this band can sell without trying. That's probably because, throughout the record, they sound just as optimistic and stoked as this character. Again, that's not always to their advantage, but at least it sounds genuine.
At the core of the record is a series of fuzzy pop songs vaguely reminiscent of the work of Robyn Hitchcock or Robert Pollard, guys who could muster infectiously hook-y melodies while being great lyricists. Wet Illustrated are pretty good at both things. Throughout the album, there are hooks that stick and don't let up. They also have the spastically excited lyrics to match that frantic shout, even if some of the words are more abstract. Given the energy pulsating throughout 1x1x1, these songs will probably hit especially hard live. It's unfortunate, then, that they're presented on an album that's a little too crowded.
