Two outlets emerged and diverged from the steady senescence of New Jersey's finest drug-addled space punk troupe DC Snipers: In Brooklyn, Mike Sniper began Blank Dogs, a shrouded hot topic of blackened new-wave junk that explores the anxieties of a big city troglodyte in a bedroom lined with broken synthesizers. But in North Carolina, Dan McGee honed his inner Southerner as Spider Bags, creating an incorrigible country wreck of devil-on-your-back guilt and bottle-in-your-hand guts, paying homage to slightly more classic ways of fucking up.
Down South, McGee's writing began to chase the great tradition of unforgivable American storytelling. On last year's debut LP, A Celebration of Hunger, he channeled long-past blind bluesmen and their tales of hard living and abuse—domestic, drug, drink—through an Oblivians take on country. An unabashed lust for left-field punk and lo-fi pop hisses hovered right at the surface. The list of his ex-bandmates rivals what one assumes must be his rap sheet, and his lyrical love-hate relationship with just about everything works in his favor.
The new two-song 7-inch Hey Delinquents shuffles along the same trajectory as A Celebration of Hunger, mixing McGee's miscreant mentality with his ear for combining dirt-caked Americana and the almighty Gabba Gabba. Its offerings are polarized, the eponymous A-side supplying a fantastic country-rock cut captured by the consistently jocked (and rightly so) Brian Paulson. The flipside's cavalier charms are barely contained by LiveFastDie's Camero Werewolf. Each side almost plays like the tune of different bands, a split between Spider Bags and itself. But it's McGee's carefully careless air that bonds them so: He finds tasteful ways to share the raucous and spiteful things he so loves.
And, just like that, he's helping bridge the gap for the Triangle's alt.country bores and its garage rock losers. That's right, people: Laugh at yourself, sing the damned songs and pay attention, as the first 100 of these 7-inch gems spin on swirled yellow vinyl.