A Baby, A Blanket, A Packet of Seeds (1990)

This album sounds like it was handed to you at a basement show on a blank cassette tape.

A Baby, A Blanket, A Packet of Seeds isn’t exactly easy to find but I’m glad someone preserved it online because this thing is sharp. And it sounds like the kind of music I was brought up on. Clever, witty, acerbic lyrics, music that straddles the line between punk and pop, and a vibe that just barrels in furiously as it unpacks 16 two-minute tracks with blazing speed.

The production is rough, almost demo-level scratchy, but that is part of the appeal. It sounds like a band that cared more about getting the songs down than smoothing the edges. Or perhaps, didn’t have enough money to hold the studio space long enough to iron these all out. But I love that about this one.

There’s range hiding inside the noise. “States Away” opens with this punchy blend of punk and new wave that somehow feels both abrasive and pop-minded at the same time. “Fitted Sheets” bounces along with an almost aggressive R.E.M. energy before snapping back into something more jagged. “Misjudge Me” leans California punk. “In an Ames Room” is all start-stop tension. “Matter of Days” taps into a kind of surf-tinged snap. “Down” has this sneaky Beatles undercurrent beneath the grit. “Push My Swing” is legitimately hooky — the cleanest vocal on the record and maybe the closest thing here to a radio moment.

“History of Zurich” rides a playful bass line that feels weirdly ahead of its time. “Genre Exercise” crashes back into punk urgency. “Approachable” is built around a killer guitar riff. “Through My Head” and “City Tablets” round things out without losing momentum. The entire thing sounds like a mash-up of influences that I instantly recognize even if I can’t name them all.

It’s short. It’s rough. It’s clever. It feels like a band operating all by themselves with no net.This one sounds like it shouldn’t exist, let alone work as well as it does. And yet, for me, it absolutely does.

Verdict: Great

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Response

  1. J-Ro Avatar

    i have a running gag with my friends about how Franklin Bruno (lead NPB guy) is my nemesis, going back to a music festival in Catskill in 2024 where he left his messenger bag on a seat towards the end of a long day of music. Since then I have seen him several times – including sitting in front of me at a tiny show in my small NJ town, large bag in tow, on the floor.

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