Warm Bodies rage. Every song by this Kansas City quartet bursts with the punk energy of a barely contained Tasmanian Devil. Singer Olivia Gibb careens with abandon, as she squeaks and squeals about puss, her eyeballs falling out, or a tryst with noted plane hijacker D.B. Cooper; the words sometimes seem secondary to the overwhelming power of her delivery. Meanwhile, guitarist Ian Teeple flails and wails, pouring out solos like the Minutemen’s D. Boon on Aderrall. During “I Need a Doctor,” Teeple combines a misremembered Minor Threat riff with echoes of a Stooges guitar solo, as Gibb rants about assorted medical maladies; behind them, a relentless rhythm section adds even more rocket fuel. At their best, Warm Bodies feel like they’re constantly on the brink of falling apart—in the most glorious of rock ’n’ roll ways.
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