Part hardcore punk, part lo­fi house beats, part meme­rock with a sprinkle of bath salts,
Mom and the Mailman makes music that’s genuinely upsetting.

I got turned onto Mom and the Mailman through their 2019 album Tasty Meat , which was
on the WVAU rack last semester, and I was an instant fan. I mean, come on: the first track is
called “Narrow Urethra” and the cover art is a bloody steak with three bolts stuck through it.
What’s not to like?

I gave it a listen, and let me tell you, a title has never described a song so well as that first
track. The intro is a drum­machine blast beat overtop of a bloopy synth texture, throwing you
into the album without any pretext or comfort, just like punk rock should. Then the “verse”
drops: The blast beat gets even more intense, and a distorted atonal guitar loop slaps you in the face. At the same time, vocalist (and maybe multi­instrumentalist?) Malcolm Bennett’s voice punches through the mix with screams and cartoonish noises, all of which are programmed to a sampler so each grunt and growl can be repeated infinitely. The result is two minutes of absurd excruciation, and you’re blowing it if you don’t give it a listen to see what I mean.

“DOG FIGHT!,” another of Tasty Meat ’s signal tracks, features an 80s synth­-bass refigured as a hardcore weapon on top of another brutal drum machine beat. The instrumental fights for control of the song with the vocals, which are drawn­out, guttural, and almost incoherent. The highlight of “Dog Fight” comes at the bridge, when the instrumental drops out completely and Bennett delivers an immortal bar, which I quote verbatim: “nom­nom­nom­nom­nom­nom­nom­nom / nom­nom­nom­nom­nom­nom­nom­nom.” I rest my case. 

Tasty Meat is jam­packed with these strange earworms, from the more traditional drum­and­guitar hardcore of “Scum / Species” to the lo­fi slow­burn groove “RAT.” Each song has a distinct flavor, but they compound into a complete whole, albeit a disgusting one, the kind of destructive masterpiece that this column takes its name from. Plus, the longest track on the album is 3:34, so you can get through the whole thing in just over 40 minutes—not that you’d probably want to. 

Mom and the Mailman is a lot like one of those masochistic hot sauces your friend with a fragile sense of masculinity likes so much: a little bit goes a long way. Break the album up over a few listening sessions to get the most enjoyment out of it possible without ruining your day. Or, if you’re in a real weird frame of mind right now, it might be the perfect moment to charge the whole thing. 

Hardcore punk has always been about iconoclasm, taking that which is worshipped and destroying it while embracing the abhorred. Ironically, hardcore is reaching an age where its own values are becoming the status quo, and crusty old fans want to see the genre they love perpetuated exactly as­is. This kind of thinking is dangerous; it keeps art from reinventing itself in response to changing times. 

Luckily, we have bands like Mom and the Mailman to cut through the stagnation and piss people off. Tasty Meat breaks every musical convention I can think of, doing it all with classically hardcore vengeance and a sense of humor worthy of Frank Zappa. If you’ve never listened to punk rock before, this might not be the album to start with. But if you’re getting tired of the same old guitar, bass, drums, and yelling, then Mom and the Mailman needs to be your next listen. Push a little further past your comfort zone; this strange, perverse music is more than worth it.

Hardcore needs innovators, and Mom and the Mailman takes charge. Now I’ll learn from Tasty Meat ’s sub­-two­ minute songs, and shut up.