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I was watching the video for the Dilly Dally single 'Candy Mountain' the other day, and as I was scrolling through the comments section, I came across the inevitable "'90s wants their sound back" remark. There's no denying the Toronto four-piece have a sound mostly indebted to the '90s, and as much as people complain about things like "revivalism" and how much newer bands are sounding like older bands, those complaints have by now rendered themselves a little redundant, because just about any up-and-coming band requires a starting point and that often comes from the influence of an older band that has already laid the groundwork for them. More importantly, similar to bands like Bully, Speedy Ortiz, Hop Along, and Wolf Alice--bands who also pull from what used to be called "college rock" and whose members were likely too young to remember any of this stuff the first time around--Dilly Dally take familiar frameworks and color them in with their own unique take, resulting in a debut that is powerful and surprisingly fresh.

Formed in 2009 by guitarists and school friends Liz Ball and Katie Monks, the band got their start in much of the same way most of us did when we formed one shitty garage band after another: by imitating their influences, which in this case, consisted of scrawling lyrics and poetry to mimic their heroes, the Pixies, whose influence is especially felt on the songs 'Desire' and 'Get To You'. "We always knew that we just wanted to make simple and powerful music" Monks stated in a recent interview with This Is Fake DIY. "Everything about this band is deliberate and everything is laid bare on the table." On Sore, they prove themselves more than capable of living up to those claims by turning out music that relies not only on sheer power and crunching volume, but also on melody and restraint, as well as the interplay between the music and Monks' coarse holler. On 'Next Gold' for example, achingly bright and jangly chords heighten the urgency of the choked-with-emotion way she sings about post-makeout bliss; 'Purple Rage' meanwhile is all sharp melodies, searing guitars, and Monks' tattered shrieks.

"The lyrics are often more like me talking to one of my best friends. Passing on important messages that I think they should know about." Monks has said about Sore, and the songs are littered with the kind of lyrics that could pass for those late night conversations shared between close friends talking about things they wouldn't otherwise talk about with anyone else. 'Green' and 'Ballin Chain' in particular are some of her more vulnerable moments as she sings about having a crush on someone but never telling them ("I need food and I need light, and darling I need you") on the former, while the latter focuses on the most simplest forms of expressing heartbreak ("I miss you" she repeats in a wounded tone). Regardless if she's singing about things like menstruation driving her crazy on 'Snake Head', or being full of so much sexual tension she's about to implode on 'Desire and 'The Touch', she delivers her words in a sloppy and guttural voice that sounds as if it were on the brink of tearing itself in half.

She has a way of expressing herself with such brutal honesty and conviction, it can be a little alarming at times, but qualities like those only serve to make everything she touches on all the more palpable, and they are also part of what makes Sore such an impressive and refreshing debut, especially in an age where click-baiting, sloganeering and image often overshadow things like substance and depth. Dilly Dally set themselves apart as a band that wants nothing else than to make a simple no-bullshit human connection with others through the music they are making.

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