Tacocat - Lost Time (LP)

Seattle’s Tacocat make pop punk that feels like a big sunny grin hiding a sharpened set of teeth, and Lost Time captures that balance beautifully. Released on 1 April 2016 via Hardly Art, it arrived after the punchy breakout of NVM and found the band tightening the hooks while leaning harder into smart, funny social commentary. Emily Nokes fronts with a voice that’s sweet, clear and sly, while Eric Randall’s guitar chimes and stings, Bree McKenna’s bass coils through each melody, and Lelah Maupin keeps everything dancing on the snare. Longtime collaborator Erik Blood produced, and the sound is crisp without sanding off the fizz that makes their songs feel like they’re happening in the room.

If you know just one track here, it’s probably I Hate the Weekend, a singalong built for small sweaty rooms and festival fields alike. It’s a razor wrapped in bubblegum, railing against the kind of city that empties out its artists during the week only to flood neighbourhoods with blow‑in party monsters on Friday night. The chorus is instant, but it’s the little details that stick, like the way the bassline nudges the melody forward while the guitar flicks out colour like a highlighter pen. The other calling card, Dana Katherine Scully, pays loving tribute to Gillian Anderson’s steady‑as‑she‑goes heroine from The X‑Files. Naming the album Lost Time nods to the show’s alien abduction lore, so the whole thing lands like a witty zine passed across a uni lawn to fellow believers. The timing felt right too, arriving the same year the series returned to TV, and critics from NPR to Pitchfork picked up on the charm and bite.

What sets Tacocat apart is how the sugar never dulls the edge. Nokes writes lyrics that read like notes swapped between friends, then sneaks in a turn of phrase that hits the gut. The guitars tuck surf sparkle into punk rhythms, and the group vocals come on like a singalong at the front of the stage. Lost Time feels tighter than its predecessor, yet it never loses the sense that the band are having a laugh while pushing back at the dafter parts of modern life. When they aim at creeping sexism or the grind of gentrification, it’s done with hooks first, polemic second, which is why the songs end up stuck in your head long after the joke has landed.

There is hometown pride woven through the record. I Love Seattle is part postcard and part inside joke, the kind of song that rings true whether you’re dodging rain in Capitol Hill or watching the clouds roll in over St Kilda. Even when the pace dips, there is snap in the snare and a spring in the vocal lines. Blood’s production keeps the guitars bright, the bass warm and slightly overdriven, and the drums right in your chest. It is a record you can throw on at a party or sit with on headphones and catch the sly harmonies tucked under the chorus lines.

Around this era Tacocat also wrote and performed the theme for the 2016 reboot of The Powerpuff Girls, which makes sense. They understand how to make a bold, colourful statement that lasts for two and a half minutes and lands with confidence every time. Lost Time works the same way. It is a short, replayable collection that rewards repeat spins, and the sequencing pulls you from bangers to breezier moments without any dead air. No surprise it landed warmly with fans and press. It is that rare record that feels like a friend.

If you’re browsing a Melbourne record store and spot Tacocat vinyl, grab it. Lost Time vinyl in particular does justice to the punchy low end and the bright, jangly top. If you prefer to buy Tacocat records online, it sits nicely alongside other Tacocat albums on vinyl and pairs well with any turntable setup that loves quick, catchy guitar pop. For anyone building a shelf of indie favourites or hunting through vinyl records Australia wide, this is the kind of album that keeps a room smiling while still saying something worth hearing. Put it on, turn it up, and let those choruses do the rest.