REVIEW: The Convenience—Like Cartoon Vampires (2025)

Another great American alt rock band joins the throng with their stunning second album.

I found out about New Orleans duo The Convenience the old fashioned way: at a gig. A song came on between sets, and almost instantly I was scrabbling for Shazam, or else I’d have had no chance of figuring out what it was. Turns out it was 2022, off their freshly released album.

From there, after a quick listen to the whole record, it was an easy decision to go ahead and buy it, taking full advantage of Rarewaves’ 10% discount, but then having to wait a good 10 days while their ultra slow shipping wound the album to my door (Anyone know how they operate? They’re usually cheaper than anyone, often by a mile).

They have that angular guitar sound going on, somewhat in the same sonic space as one of my favs, Omni (who I notice they’re touring with in the US, in September/October). Obviously the band are entirely new to me, but it appears that they have taken a complete sonic left turn since their previous album, 2021’s Accelerator, which was poppy, synth-heavy, funky new wave. Being polite, I much prefer their current direction.

Being a fan of Cola, Omni, Spoon and others that dish out this style of taut, American alternative rock, songs like I Got Exactly What I Wanted and Target Offer get the record off to the best possible start. It’s got hooks, there’s an unfussiness to the production, great guitar lines, and has that requisite cool in spades. Like all the best guitar-driven bands, the riffs are instant, the drums lock-in, and they fashion a sound that is greater than the sum of its parts. And you just know this would all sound fantastic in a small, sweaty club, with the band in front of you with no security apes to spoil the vibe. (Come to Glasgow, hint hint).

It’s the kind of album where there’s no real sag at all. They just keep dishing out one great track after another, seemingly able to dig out another classy hook (see Waiting For A Train, 2022) to keep your attention. They also weave around musical styles when they feel like it, such as the oddball keyboard-driven Pray’r, or the new wave-ska inflected instrumental Cafe Style 4 thrown in there to keep it weird. The spoken word interlude Rats does a similar job.

There’s a regular dip into the treasure trove of late 70s post-punk/new wave sounds throughout the record, so when you get to That’s Why I Never Became A Dancer you can almost see the drainpipe trousers, badges and suit jackets as they rattle through the track. They even go a big Mark E. Smith on Western Pepsi Cola Town. Only a bit though. They’re not slavish to their influences.

To cap it off, they switch gear from two minute ditties to a 10-and-a-half minute epic, with its central riff eventually building to an apocalyptic din—no doubt set closer to send everyone home with slightly worse hearing than they had before. With an album as assured as this under their belt, expect to hear a whole lot more from Duncan Troast and Nick Corson in the coming years.