Okie Dokie Okie Dokie

Okie Dokie Okie Dokie
Okie Dokie resemble a mean and fast three-piece whose grasp on the circle-pit, face-punching testosterone of the early '80s belies their adorable indie rock faces. Their self-titled EP is dark, almost to the point of maniacal, and although they look like No Age's tour-mates, in their button-downs and skinny jeans, these Los Angeles noise punks would sound most at home next to the Stooges on a dingy record store's P.A. (especially if it's through a record player). With a thick, rattling bass anchoring what sounds like a consistent drum-machine snap, "Capital Glad Passion" repeats its cheaply distorted garage guitar riff until it gets so frantic it implodes and while "Icepick Kick" lacks an anthemic hook its nagging nasal chants relentlessly worm their way into your head and, after a few listens, under your skin. It's an initial blast of aggression and excitement but eventually Okie Dokie and their debut reveal themselves as harmless and a bit cheeky, which is much more appealing than ignorant brattiness. (Aagoo)