Synthetic ID

Synthetic ID

Impulses

Castle Face

“Hermetically sealed punk broadcast from a bunker. This guitar is untying a knot of wires; vocals like watching a fight where two men exchange tit-for-tat face blows. Surgical drums; bass grown under glass. The occasional synthesizer like you didn’t know you were thirsty till water crossed your lips. Wound tight, lock-jawed; no rust on these gears. Chilly production crystallizes these post-apocalyptic poems from San Francisco.” —John Dwyer

Synthetic ID

Escapement

Crime On The Moon

***Now that the Eighties is the most vogue decade for musicians to rehash, droves of new bands have adopted the post-punk sound. But few have successfully channeled its spirit of maladjustment—except for local quartet SYNTHETIC ID.  While a lot of modern post-punk bands digress into atmospherics and moody dawdling, Synthetic ID is assertive and fiercely present. JAKE DUDLEY’s sinuous and trebly guitar riffs are the obvious musical focal point, but PAUL LUCICH’s circular bass grooves effectively reinforce the general unruliness, and each track is propelled by crisp, eighth-note-centric drum beats. Never saturated or clamorous, the production on the recording is sparse—a vital element to Synthetic ID's sound: The clarity and space between each instrument actually maximizes the neurotic mood. All the while, vocalist NIC LANG’s monotonous shout provides an ideal counterpoint to the otherwise volatile sounds. While other post-punk groups convey only a vague sense of moodiness, Synthetic ID conjures a distinctly urban sense of alienation. It reflects the restlessness of a world in which buildings become towering predators and commuter crowds signify impending doom.”—Sam Lefebvre. Edition of 500 copies with hand-painted and silkscreened jackets, each unique from the others.

Synthetic ID

Apertures

1-2-3-4 Go!

***Widely heralded as one of the best new bands in the SF Bay Area. SYNTHETIC ID play taught, angular, aggressive post punk oft compared to The Wipers, Gang of Four, Wire and Mission of Burma. This record uses tension to level whatever is put in front of it. Use it to flatten your neighbor's house. Includes download code. First pressing limited to only 500 copies. "Synthetic ID sound like Greg Sage, D. Boone, and Colin Newman fabricating the house band for the International Space Station. Or better yet, spending three days in close quarters on an uncharted trek to the Sea of Tranquility. Anxious paranoia dripping from the walls. It's jerky, derailed, and draws heavily from early post-punk, but chugs along at a classic punk tempo, blasting out totally agitated lyrics the whole time. Space madness? Or just a need to escape the surface of this planet, even if it just be through the act of playing two minute punk jams? Either way, it's exciting and different." - Razorcake