Though Plastic Cactusâ name calls to mind fake houseplants impersonating the real deal, the Portland bandâs music conjures images of faraway landscapes dotted by spiky green saguaros with big open skies and relentless sun. Between standouts like âDark and Moodyâ and âMumâs the Wordâ (which contains the steely warning, âDonât say I play well for a girlâ), their 2017 debut EP Pricks put the dueling guitars and vocals of Brooke Metropulos and Michaela Gradstein at the forefront of catchy but menacing songs, with bassist Bill Willson and drummer Tyler Brown holding down the rhythm section.
Pricks sounds equally inspired by Ennio Morriconeâs spaghetti western soundtracks, 1980s desert rock band the Gun Club, and contemporary surf outfit La Luz. Plastic Cactusâ new EP, Moth Eyes, continues in this trajectory, with giddy-up rhythms, earth-rumbling bass lines, rattlesnake-like percussion, and twangy guitar riffs. With lyrics about dust and whispering skulls, it plays like a mini existential breakdown; all four songs dwell on timeâs steady crawl toward death over melodies that sound fever-dreamy and detached from reality.
Beginning with opening track âNothingââwhich centers on numb repetitions of the phrase âfeel like nothingâ before collapsing into a psychedelic whirlpool of âoohs,â âahs,â and screechesâMoth Eyes feels paranoid and nervous. The whole EP is marked by the sensation of watching and waiting for something to appear on the horizon; itâs creepy, but moving further into those warped, surreal sounds works well for Plastic Cactus. One thing they should definitely include more of on their next release: those horns on closing track âTumbleweeds (Plactus Theme).â