{"product_id":"metz-ii-lp","title":"Metz - II LP","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ciframe style=\"border: 0; width: 100%; height: 42px;\" src=\"https:\/\/bandcamp.com\/EmbeddedPlayer\/album=3292633564\/size=small\/bgcol=ffffff\/linkcol=0687f5\/transparent=true\/\"\u003e\u003c\/iframe\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMetz - II LP\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\"\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMetz have all the telltale signs of an early-90s nostalgia band. They play blistering Touch And Go-indebted punk rock; they’ve got a frontman who wears glasses and ripped jeans and screams his head off like a young Steve Albini and a drummer who pounds the kit and flails his hair like a young Dave Grohl; they write misanthropic songs about \"rats\" and \"landfills\" and \"nausea\".  \u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd yet to their massive credit, the Toronto three-piece has managed to be much more than that. Metz are no museum piece or paean to the glory days of 1991. Somehow, despite the time-stamped familiarity of the band’s ingredients, the finished product sounds urgent, necessary, even a little dangerous.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe reasons why are frustratingly simple: execution and conviction. Metz play brutally efficient, art-damaged rock \u0026amp; roll that never bobs or weaves when it isn’t supposed to. And they do it without blinking. There’s nothing knowing about their music – no references to decode or allusions to suss out, no laughs at your expense – just volume and velocity in hardy portions. And grit.\" - John S.W. MacDonald \/ The Quietus \u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Sub Pop","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":50667077796132,"sku":"","price":24.5,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/2606\/0952\/files\/metzII.jpg?v=1747930309","url":"https:\/\/www.stickfiguremailorder.com\/products\/metz-ii-lp","provider":"Stickfigure Mailorder","version":"1.0","type":"link"}