Flasher - Flasher EP

Pitchfork 78

Washington, DC exists in a constant ominous haze. It’s no secret that this environment has given rise to absolutely vital punk through grassroots oppositional music scenes, from Dischord post-hardcore forebears like Rites of Spring and Fugazi to the feminist Positive Force collective that fostered the East coast wing of riot grrrl. Sister Polygon, an eclectic record label run by the members of Priests, is helping to set up infrastructure for the latest wave. Their bands deploy many tactics: the confrontational urgency of Downtown Boys and Priests themselves, the tongue-in-cheek minimalism of Sneaks, the giddy polyphonics of Gauche. They all paint sonic critiques of broken systems and create effective models of resistance.

Flasher, made up of Taylor Mulitz (bassist in Priests), Emma Baker, and Daniel Saperstein, is the latest to emerge. They take a moody post-punk approach, crafting introspective songs that speak to selfhood and sublimation. “What happens when the continuity of self and the worlds you come to depend on shatter?” Flasher told The Media in April upon releasing their debut self-titled cassette, which is now being re-released on vinyl. “We’re trying to explore new forms of resistance, where being yourself ceases to be a matter of reliability and instead leans into emerging, shifting, and unsustainable senses of self.” The trio’s previous project, Young Trynas, addressed some of these themes on their 2013 EP Probably Music, but on Flasher they’re silkier, more stylized, well-honed.

Flasher’s airy melodic vocal hooks, layered over grungy instrumentation, earn comparisons to Goo-era Sonic Youth. The more relentless tracks, meanwhile, like “All Over,” recall the overdriven shoegaze of A Place to Bury Strangers. Call-and-response singing and classically ominous synths round out full, rich songs; each part sits perfectly in the mix. On the standout opener, “Tense,” a languid, taunting lead vocal faces off with another voice, which rattles out a laundry list of concerns: “The backseat/The answer/To society/Something greater/The body/Distant achievements/Further growth/Empty gesture.” Crashing waves of guitar nearly drown it out, but the bite of the words is persistent. “Tense” luxuriates in the tension between desire and responsibility.

From there, the tracks are more high-octane, built around mantras of being and nothingness. “I’ll erase myself/To release myself” vows the chorus of “Erase Myself”; “Is this becoming/Or am I succumbing?” asks “Make Out.” The object of immersion is never named; it could be society, or coupling, or the scene. Instead, the focus is on the lure of being consumed, its dark seduction. Closer “Destroy” can be read as a display of sweetly heartsick longing—the chorus crooning, “Starting to realize/I just want to be your boy”—or as a self-conscious critique of that form of desire. “Go destroy your feelings,” Mulitz sings, “Make a little room for me.”

Across Flasher, dissociative existential questions are countered by the visceral physicality of the songs. This places the trio squarely in the tradition of punk that articulates how politics imprint on the body. “Throw It Away” shakes with every drum kick and guitar screech, recalling the angst of other Polygon projects with the repetition of lines like, “With god as my witness/This world is a sickness” and “Why should I be thankful?” But for all the tension and darkness, there’s a real joy to Flasher—a knowing smile, a dream-pop slippage. It’s a fun listen that sounds like it was equally fun to make, which, after all the soul-searching, is a source of relief.