Omni - Networker (LP)

Omni’s third album, Networker, arrived on Sub Pop on November 1, 2019, and it plays like a sharp reset from a band that already prided itself on economy. The Atlanta trio had carved out a niche with Deluxe and Multi-task on Trouble In Mind, but the Sub Pop debut trims the fat even further. You get tight, wiry guitars, bone-dry drums, and a bass that leads as often as it supports, all in just over half an hour. It is post-punk with a smile and a wince, the sort of thing that makes you stand up a little straighter when the needle hits.

The core of Omni’s appeal is the conversation between Philip Frobos’s bass and vocals and Frankie Broyles’s guitar. Broyles, who once put in time with Deerhunter, threads clean, trebly lines that feel both fidgety and elegant. He rarely leans on effects, which keeps every scrape and harmonic sitting right on the surface. Frobos is a sly anchor, his bass darting around the kick drum while his voice stays cool and unhurried. The band’s pocket got even leaner with drummer Chris Yonker in the fold by this era, and the performances on Networker feel clipped to the millisecond. The production stays out of the way, which is exactly where it should be. No gauzy haze, no fake grit, just the band in a bright room, playing with intent.

“Skeleton Key” sets the tone. It’s a classic Omni mover, all chattering guitar shapes, a bassline that won’t sit still, and a vocal that treats hooks like overheard asides. It is catchy without telegraphing it, a trick the group has made its calling card. “Sincerely Yours” doesn’t sprint as much as it sidewinds, with angular chords that circle a melody until it clicks in your head and refuses to leave. Both tracks were smart picks for early singles because they show off the album’s trim aesthetic and its sly sense of humor about modern life. The title Networker hints at the record’s preoccupation with connection and presentation, and you hear that in the lyrics’ wry distance, which reads like small talk and subtext at the same time.

The band’s Georgia roots show up in spirit, less in accent than in attitude. There is a line that runs from Athens and Atlanta art-rock to Omni’s clipped minimalism. They share that gift for turning restraint into charisma. Where some bands might fill the gaps with pedals or synth washes, Omni makes space count. A single muted strum, a sudden break, a snapped hi-hat figure, these are the fireworks. The album’s sequencing doubles down on that logic. Short tracks that do one or two things perfectly, then get out. If you are a headphone obsessive, the pleasures are huge. If you want something that jolts a sleepy room to life, the songs do that too.

What’s striking is how cleanly the group scaled up to a bigger label without blunting their edges. The Sub Pop sheen here is really just clarity. You can hear more of the pick hitting the strings and the room around the kit. The ideas stay the point. That makes Networker a great on-ramp if you missed the early stuff, and a satisfying turn if you have been there since Deluxe. It also rewards repeat spins. With each pass, a new rhythmic feint or guitar filigree snaps into view.

If you are the kind of listener who keeps a mental list of records that pair well with a cold night and a well-loved chair, this is one to add. It is also the sort of album that begs for a physical copy. The separation and snap flatter the format, and the songs feel designed for side A, side B contemplation. If you are hunting for Omni vinyl, track down Networker vinyl first, then fill in the earlier Trouble In Mind releases. You will find plenty of places to buy Omni records online, and a lot of shops file Omni albums on vinyl right beside classic Wire and Television reissues. I have even seen it pop up in a Melbourne record store while browsing for vinyl records Australia finds on a long afternoon, which is as good a litmus test as any for a modern cult favorite.

Networker is a small record in the best sense. No bloat, no blare, just a band with a clear idea of what they do well and the patience to let it unfold at their pace. It is precise without being precious, severe and playful at once. Put it on, let the guitars click into their lockstep, and see if your shoulders do not start keeping time before the first side runs out.