The opening hook of Camp Trash’s “Bobby” is a faithful banner, ringing in their debut EP, Downtiming (via Count Your Lucky Stars) with gleaming and fuzzy riffs which drags you happily through the doors of this emo pop-rock track.
Bradenton Beach, Florida-based band Camp Trash positions themselves as the kind of indie/emo rock that twinkles you down into melancholy but, on the contrary, brings you up on the wings of poppier sounds. Powerful percussion pushed, emotionally accented, smooth hitting ballads, this project hits the spot I imagine the groups to which they compare themselves (Oso Oso) hit. It’s the kind of middle-tempo, upbeat stuff of teenaged summers, and each line uttered by lead singer Bryan Gorman makes me fall deeper and deeper under the spell of Camp Trash. And as much as the critic in me wants to compare this line or that vocal flourish to such and such influence, I really don’t think it’ll contribute at all to the construction of an image of this group, which yes, seeks to revive the emo rock of years ago, but in such a way as to leave plenty of room for their own individuality.
When listening to “Bobby,” or “Potomino,” one is under the impression of experiencing wonderful simplicity. Their composition almost feels classic, the smoothness of the sound and the coherence of the group is just effortless. Obviously, that’s far from the truth, and a close look at any of the tracks on this 12-minute EP will allow you to see that these songs are really well-considered. For one thing, the group makes great use of sonic white space.
As much as “Bobby” lives up to its position as their debut single, I find “Potomino” irresistible. It jumps right into Gorman’s discrete stepping-stone intro. It’s true ear-candy, the energetic guitar progression helping Gorman along the track’s mild build-up. A clear, bittersweet song about relationships and love which, again, feels like the milder days of summer.
That bittersweetness is hard to miss with Camp Trash, though you’d be remiss to. As peppy as some of the guitar lines can be, the lyrics can be quite different. On “Sleepyhead,” he sings “seeing visions of you beating thе shit out of your neighbor’s dog/there’s three boys dead out on your front lawn/and their voices calm me down.” It’s a song without any real respite, ending “how did I get here?” We’re in emo territory for sure.
What is one to make of a band with just four tracks to form an impression? Well, just the scarcity of songs from this group whets my appetite for more. This isn’t the kind of music, I typically surround myself with–perhaps just a circle adjacent–but now with around fifteen listens through this EP under my belt, I get the same foot-tapping, head-nodding experience of full engagement. I can’t wait for more Camp Trash.
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