Debby Friday - The Starrr Of The Queen Of Life (LP) - Loser Edition Grey Vinyl

Omni’s Souvenir landed on 16 February 2024 through Sub Pop, and it feels like the Atlanta trio has sharpened their pencils to a lethal point. If you’ve followed them since Deluxe and Multitask, you’ll know the drill, taut post‑punk with a dry wit and a quick step, but Souvenir tightens the screws again. Philip Frobos sings like he’s filing a dispatch from a cubicle with a view of the carpark, and Frankie Broyles threads guitar lines that flicker between Television‑style filigree and wire‑taut clang. The rhythms never dawdle. Songs snap to attention, make their case, and duck out before you can overthink them.

The singles told the story early. Exacto comes out with a clipped strut, all springy bass and chiming guitar, the chorus cutting clean like the craft knife it’s named after. Common Mistakes leans a touch warmer, but the writing stays economical, motifs circling back with satisfying precision. Plastic Pyramid, with Izzy Glaudini from Automatic on guest vocals, adds a sly pop glaze without dulling the edge. It is still Omni, still twitchy, still clever, just with a neon sign buzzing in the corner. That feature makes sense on paper and plays even better in your headphones.

What I love here is the group’s sense of space. Omni never overcrowd a room. A single palm‑muted guitar, a hi‑hat whisper, Frobos’ voice nudging at some bureaucratic riddle, that’s often enough. You can hear the air around the notes, which keeps the tension alive. When the choruses hit, they feel earned. It’s an approach that owes a debt to forebears like Wire and Pylon, and to peers who prize economy over bombast, but Omni have figured out a tone that’s recognisably theirs. Even when Broyles lets a lead line flare, it arrives like a memo with a sly joke in the footer rather than a grandstanding solo.

There’s a practical charm to the sequencing too. The record doesn’t flog one tempo, it rolls. You get those quick, nervous movers, then a half‑step shift that stretches the groove and lets the hooks breathe. The lyrics keep their cards close, modern ennui and opaque office politics peeking through in phrases rather than manifestos, which suits the delivery. Frobos has always sounded like he’s telling you something that could be important, but he refuses to underline it. On Souvenir that restraint reads like confidence.

Sub Pop has been a good home for them, and this feels like a proper return after the gap that followed Networker. You can hear a band who had time to refine rather than rethink. The arrangements are leaner, the melodies stickier, the playing as tight as a rehearsal room on a summer afternoon. I caught myself replaying transitions just to hear how the bass turns a corner or how the guitar cuts across the bar line. It is that kind of record, built for repeat listens rather than first‑week fireworks.

If you’re crate digging, Souvenir vinyl is the way to go. This kind of music thrives on the physical hum of a needle, those clipped drums and glassy guitars sitting nicely in the stereo field. Omni vinyl tends to disappear fast in shops, so if you can’t swing by your local Melbourne record store, you can always buy Omni records online. For anyone building a lean post‑punk shelf, this sits neatly next to Automatic, Deeper and the sharper end of Parquet Courts. And if you’re browsing for Omni albums on vinyl or just want to plug a gap in your vinyl records Australia haul, this one’s a safe bet.

Critics picked up on the refinement straight away, and fans have rallied to the singles. Exacto has already become a set highlight, all that nervous energy channelled into a clean, bouncy chorus. Plastic Pyramid adds a welcome jolt live too, that call‑and‑response vocal giving the song an extra hook to grab. In a year stacked with talky, angular guitar records, Souvenir stands out because it doesn’t hustle you with noise or posture. It just does the job with smarts and style.

Omni aren’t reinventing themselves here, and they don’t need to. Souvenir is the sound of three players who know their strengths and push them a little further, trimming the fat and polishing the shine. It leaves you with songs that hit quick, hang around in your head, and make you want to flip the record and start again. That’s a proper souvenir, something you keep close, not because it’s flashy, but because it feels right in the hand.