208 - Nearby [WHITE VINYL. DETROIT GARAGE FUZZ PUNK] marked down - New LP

Noisy Motor City garage punk fuzz storm to destroy your mind, screaming from the fruit cellar during a tornado warning, creaking hinges out of shadowy corners and up the basement stairs, kicking open the cellar doors and into the night, stomping in a slush-filled mud puddle and holding the bare-wire end of the downed powerline against the side of your neck to scorch off your ears and electrocute your body back to life.  -- winch (green noise)

First pressing of 100 on white vinyl.

208 is a masochistic infernal vision that only Detroiters could attain. The beguiling duo that is Kyle Edmonds on guitar and vox and Shelby Say on drums conjure the essence of unconventionality, annihilating apathy by withdrawing the angst that inhabits all of us. Obscured in devilish scowls and dark sunglasses, the duo summons the oldfangled spirit of Detroit's garage rock scene that their co-denizens like The Stooges and The Gories anointed us with. Legend has it Edmonds sold his soul to the Devil for prowess, and if this Johnsonian anecdote isn't tempting enough to peak your interest, giving them a listen will seal another, perhaps more deafening deal.


Ear-splitting tracks like "RED CAT," "FOUNTAIN," and "STONED" off their 2022 album NEARBY induce what feels like an intense panic attack you don't want out of; these songs capture the same brashness as their live sets, that fittingly end with an volatile wall of abrasive noise, Edmonds eventually grabs each string with his blood-spattered hands and tears them off his guitar almost as to sacrifice his instrument to the demons 208 brought to the stage throughout their set.

Permanently barefoot, Edmonds flails around stage, roaring on the mic while Say remains impervious and unyielding, thunderously pounding on the drumset. It's only the occasional sip of stroh's that withdraws her from her steady yet unobtrusive playing. Being turbulent, heavy and nearly inaudible is their thing, and this is why they rock. Self-described as "frenetic garage trash," even 208 understands there may be no reason to delight in their indecipherable music, but this perplexing paradox is exactly what is so captivating about them.

208 has aggregated all the wasted clipping segments hacked off of more thoroughly manicured garage rock and built a monster of an album from them. The momentum built from it pouring from the speakers is a slipstream that makes your escape a little easier. It emulates, well a live set at the last concert you'll ever properly hear.