If you’ve been to a local punk show before, you’re probably familiar with the following routine: three dudes walk on stage, turn up their amps past any volume that could be considered remotely reasonable, tell the audience to go crazy and tear through a thirty minute set of 1.5- 2 minute songs while every bald guy in the audience turns into a human helicopter blade. While this is a timeless, and usually enjoyable, formula, it’s unlikely that I’ll go home remembering the name of the band, and it’s even less likely that I’ll be genuinely excited at the announcement of their next home-recorded EP.
So, when Gramma took the stage at 7th Street Entry on Halloween of 2024 and immediately cranked every volume knob at their disposal, I was more than prepared to forget them. But, what followed was not a by-the-numbers punk set; instead, it was a series of well-crafted and catchy tunes that barreled through their runtimes but stuck around just long enough to get stuck in your head. Instead of the paint-by-numbers power chords and picked bass I was expecting, the band treated us to melodic lead guitar and irresistibly tight grooves, topped off with snotty vocals that cut though the mix effortlessly. It was a great set, and I left excited to see what the band did next. Lo and behold, exactly one year later, they played at the University of Minnesota’s Whole Music Club to celebrate the release of their new album “Dime.” And, lo and behold, they played yet another great set. They remained impressively tight and minimal, driving the audience feral with the sheer strength of their songs. When they cleared out, I stumbled from the stage to the exit coated in strangers’ sweat, one thought permeated my mind: this record better be good. When I got back to campus the next day, the first thing I did was give it a spin.
My first impression of “Dime” was that it’s a masterclass in economics. It’s less than twenty minutes long, populated by several songs whose runtimes barely crack sixty seconds, with an estimated chorus-to-verse ratio of at least 50/50. This is a smart move for a band primarily known for their live shows: don’t stuff your albums full of filler, just give ‘em a taste. It’ll save you money on studio time and leave listeners wanting more. Still, there’s a lot more to the record than just this display of restraint. Live staples such as “Icebox” and “Villian” don’t hit any less hard in studio form, despite the lack of audible overdubs and nakedly dry production. The shortest tracks consist of irresistibly simple riffs that don’t repeat for a single measure longer than they need to, and heaps of distortion don’t rob the vocals of their charming brattiness. The bubbly basslines are pushed high in the mix, but fully earn every moment of attention they’re given. Sure, it’s not much you haven’t already heard before, but the band has taken up the noble objective of perfecting the formula, and I find it hard to fault them for that.
In case it isn’t clear already, I’m a fan of this band, and they have earned my love by knowing who they are. They’re just three dudes who like playing loud music and have gotten pretty great at it over the years. They are a lean, no-nonsense rock n’ roll band, of which the world never has enough. Go see Gramma live as soon as you can, and don’t forget to grab a CD at the merch table. You might get through it more than once on your drive home, especially if traffic is heavy, but I bet you’ll want to restart it the moment it ends anyway.
