Cinemechanica is complicated music done right.

Cinemechanica believes in dueling guitars, and by believe I mean talk about it, critique it, and collectively lose our shit over it. Cinemechanica believes in work ethic and in not accepting the first, obvious solution to a songwriting quandary. Cinemechanica is burned out on the same three tepid indie rock beats you’re burned out on. Furthermore, four years running and Cinemechanica will still wtfpwn your house party. Above all, Cinemechanica understands the necessity of bringing the motherfuckin hooks. We get saddled with the lazy “mathrock” classification frequently enough to warrant its mention. Although we have the utmost appreciation for Don Cab, Drive Like Jehu and Faraquet, we are students of the game enough to realize that what makes each of those bands worthy of complete catalog memorization is that each, in its time, carved out its own signature style of hooks and had its own singular voice; a voice that captivated fans as much for its uniqueness as for the insight it gave into its authors. We hope our voice, in turn, reflects our belief that getting your face melted at a rock show is timeless.

As people, we pick apart compiler bands all day long. It ensures that when we go to the practice space, uninspired parts are identified and given the hard goodbye. And, as it turns out, we aren’t alone. The ever-expanding Hello Sir network of OCD conspirators like labelmates We versus the Shark and Tiger Bear Wolf, and Bostonite spooky geniuses Ho-Ag are finding audiences ready for more than just a rehash of their favorite bands from 1997. Audiences composed of people just like us. The revolution will not be calculated.

Listen to this record. Loud.