Everyone’s favorite punk rock agitators, DRUCH CHURCH, have returned! Today the band have announced their highly anticipated fourth full-length, “Hygiene”, due out March 11th from Pure Noise Records. Drug Church are one of the most singular bands in modern guitar music and on “Hygiene” the band’s uncompromising nature has resulted in a bold leap forward.
The Albany and Los Angeles-based five-pieceโvocalist Patrick Kindlon, guitarists Nick Cogan and Cory Galusha, bassist Pat Wynne, and drummer Chris Villeneuveโhave a unique ability to make distinctly outsider music thatโs also welcoming and instantly satisfying, as evidenced by “Hygiene”‘s lead singles “Million Miles of Fun” and “Detective Lieutenant”. The two songs represent the essential tension between overt melody and visceral aggression that fuels Drug Churchโthe former pushing the band’s seamless blend of hardcore bite and massive, ’90s-indebted hooks to its most anthemic point, while the latter shows off a level of tunefulness never before seen in their catalog.
Hygiene follows Drug Church’s 2018 LP, “Cheer”, and their 2021 EP, “Tawny”, both of which drew acclaim from fans and critics alike (including attention from the likes of Stereogum, Noisey, NPR, Revolver, BrooklynVegan, and more), and immediately makes it clear that the band aren’t content to rest on their laurels. The record builds on the most melodic moments of Drug Church’s past work without losing any of the combustable energy that has made them so appealing to fans of both heavy and hooky music. Throughout the album Kindlon’s lyrics are as incisive as ever. He walks a tightrope between observation, honesty, frustration, and humorโwading into the absurdity of modern life; the relationships between art and the people consuming it; and the primacy of following your own pathโand somehow achieves a tone that’s as blunt as it is nuanced. The result is an album that captures a band truly at the top of their game, and demands conversations and stage dives in equal measure.
“Hygiene” is due out March 11th via Pure Noise Records.
Drug Church is a band without fear. For the past ten years, the Albany and Los Angeles-based five-piece have been staunchly creating their own singular path in making distinctly outsider music thatโs somehow at once welcoming and instantly satisfying. The bandโs songs revel in sonic contradictions, seamlessly combining crushing aggression with bulletproof hooks, while the lyrics unflinchingly explore lifeโs darkness and discomfort with sardonic witโand without judgement. On “Hygiene”, their impending fourth full-length, Drug Church is as uncompromising as ever, and it has resulted in their boldest set of songs to date. Drug Church are still demanding that the listener comes to them, not the other way around, and with Hygiene, they just might.
With each successive release Drug Churchโvocalist Patrick Kindlon, guitarists Nick Cogan and Cory Galusha, bassist Pat Wynne, and drummer Chris Villeneuveโhave been pushing the seemingly intractable elements of their sound further and further. Where their critically acclaimed 2018 album, “Cheer”, brought more melody into the bandโs combustible music, “Hygiene” doubles down without losing an ounce of bite in the execution.
โSometimes I say we make radio music that canโt be played on the radioโ, Kindlon laughs. โI think itโs likable but itโs also just not designed for mass appealโ.
“Hygiene” is in fact an incredibly appealing album despite being difficult to categorizeโor perhaps because of it. Recorded with producer/engineer Jon Markson and clocking in at a lean 26 minutes, the record makes it abundantly clear that Drug Church arenโt content to rest on their laurels. Across ten strikingly dynamic songs, Cogan and Galusha alternate between massive riffs and some of the most unexpectedly melodic guitar playing that has ever touched Drug Churchโs music, while Villeneuve and Wynneโs rhythm section unflaggingly shakes the ground. The bandโs foundation in hardcore still provides plenty of stagedive-inspiring energy, but even Kindlonโs signature roar has taken a tuneful turn with layered vocals, raw harmonies, and cadences hooky enough to have listeners shouting along after one listen.
While “Hygiene” is an undeniable leap forward for Drug Church, itโs not one made by some grand design. In fact, bandโs writing process is refreshingly mystique-free: the instrumentalists simply hone the songs until theyโre ready to show them to Kindlon, who offers โintentionally unhelpful notesโ before writing most of his lyrics under the gun in the studio. โThe beauty that happens here is accidentalโ, he explains. โItโs not that musicians have some insight into the world, itโs just that by doing something in art you can trip over these transcendent momentsโbut you canโt endeavor to make themโ.
Itโs a fitting approach thatโs also reflected in Kindlonโs lyrics, many of which deal with the relationship between art and the people consuming it. Thereโs a blunt-yet-affecting quality that appears throughout “Hygiene”, as he walks a tightrope between observation, honesty, absurdity, frustration, and humorโall with a willingness to question the messier parts of modern life that many would prefer to simply ignore. โWhatever milieu weโre living in right now is not one I was intended forโ, he says. โThe conversation is not asking us to personally challenge ourselves or try to better ourselves. Itโs a push to be in other peopleโs business and judge each other all the time. And I have no interest in judging strangersโ.
“Hygiene”โs opening salvo of โFunโs Overโ, a sub-two minute blast of stomping punk, and โSuper Saturatedโ, a towering rock song led by one of the albumโs most jaw-dropping riffs, finds Kindlon cautioning against the lure of compromising oneโs art for the sake of success, but then prodding at the very idea of art made by a perfect person. On โPiss & Quietโ, he is quick to reject the role of the artist themselves as any kind of meaningful spokesperson. โYou can get a lot out of a song, you can get a lot out of music, but you canโt go to music for the answers in life”, he says, and while this might suggest some kind of remove, it wouldnโt be a Drug Church record without more nuance than that. This is evident on โDetective Lieutenantโ, a mid-album standout that finds Kindlon examining the unbreakable connection between art and the person it has moved. โMy relationship with a song is the song, periodโ, he explains. โFor me, if I look at a piece of art, and itโs enriched me, itโs hard for me to care about anything elseโ. Itโs perhaps the most downright pretty sounding song that Drug Church has ever written, with interwoven shimmering guitars that build to Kindlonโs explosive refrain of โwe donโt toss away what we loveโ.
While thereโs a clear point of view running throughout Hygiene, Drug Church is here to move you, not to lecture you. On โPremium Offerโ, Kindlon directly rebuffs the desire to dictate anyone elseโs life (with help from guest vocalist Carina Zachary of Husbandry). โItโs a pointless endeavor to let people into your life who do nothing but tell you how to conduct yoursโ, he says. โA lot of people would tell you how to live but they donโt actually care if you live or notโ. Instead Kindlon seems occupied by the finite time we have and how best to spend it. Tracks like โPluckedโ, โTiresomeโ, or colossal highlight โMillion Miles of Funโ mark a refusal to get wrapped up in inherently broken political constructs, self-pity, or the endless deluge of useless information coming at us at all times. โAs you get older you realize you wasted a lot of timeโ, he says. โYou cared about dumb shit and by the time you realize this, you have less timeโ.
“Hygiene” feels less like itโs kicking against the clock and more like itโs embracing the reality of it. โAt some point you have to admit to yourself that all your plans and goals are subject to the randomness of lifeโ, Kindlon says. โBut on the flipside, if you donโt have goals, how do you know where youโre going?โ. On closing track โAthlete on Benchโ, Kindlon sings โIโm living between shrinking marginsโ, turning an acknowledgement of niche passions into an anthemic finale. Thatโs the quiet aspiration in Drug Churchโs uncompromising nature: itโs ambition on their own terms, a desire to simply be the absolute best at what they do. โThereโs value in trying to be exceptional, at least in your own mindโ, Kindlon says. โIโm exceptional at virtually nothing, but striving for it has given my life some purpose. Or at least itโs led me to this hotel room in Denver on tourโ.
