It could’ve been a punk-rock cliché. The Chicago DIY band Lifeguard “grows up,” discovers pop, and loses what made them thrilling to begin with — that dissonant, angular, emotional (but not emo per se) sound they perfected on their first two EPs. But on their debut album Ripped and Torn, out now via Matador Records, Lifeguard have reinforced their punk ethos and DIY spirit, not abandoned it.
Hailing from the burgeoning Chicago DIY music scene — dubbed Hallo Gallo — that rocketed standout acts like Teen Vogue faves, avant-pop group Horsegirl, Lifeguard formed in 2019 while its three members were still in high school. They’ve released two EPs Crowd Can Talk and Dressed in Trenches, which both echo and expand on the history of post-hardcore forged by bands like Rites of Spring, Fugazi, and Unwound. Ripped and Torn channels that angst into something surprisingly hook-laden, while still maintaining what made fans flock to them in the first place.
Guitarist and singer Kai Slater, bassist Asher Case, and drummer Isaac Lowenstein (whose sister is in Horsegirl) are unpretentious, honest, and above all, music obsessives. During their Zoom interview for this piece, they reference long forgotten side projects of obscure bands that only the coolest of the cool have even heard of: Lifetones, for example, or C.A. Quintet. Their encyclopedic knowledge extends far beyond the post-punk and post-hardcore genres they're often praised for, encompassing everything from '60s psychedelia to '90s electronic music and everything in between.
“We're record dorks,” Slater says. “We're able to express these kinds of feelings that can become very existential and confront a lot of crises through the language that we know best, which is records.”
Through internet wormholes, Discogs deepdives, music documentaries, and even children’s programming, the guys in Lifeguard get inspiration from everywhere. Lowenstein recalls watching Yo Gabba Gabba! as a kid and seeing the Japanese alternative musician Cornelius perform. “They're like the coolest looking band ever, all of them wear striped T-shirts and sunglasses,” Lowenstein says. “I remember being totally struck by the whole thing.”
But the biggest influence on Ripped and Torn seems to be fanzine culture, and not just because the album is named after the iconic '70s punk rag. There might be no Lifeguard without the cut-and-paste medium. During the pandemic lockdown, Slater started working on a zine he called Hallo Gallo, since there was no IRL interaction with the music scene, and he was “starved for connection” with other young people and sick of just going online to achieve community.
“In Chicago, activism started to feel like something that was very tied to repost threads and Instagram. There's not much else you can do when you're in the middle of a pandemic,” Slater says. “So a zine just seemed like the obvious way to be able to distribute information and a form of propaganda for the youth scene.”
Hallo Gallo highlighted local bands like the powerpop duo Friko, and in more recent issues includes conversations with punk legends like Robyn Hitchcock of the Soft Boys and indie stalwarts Stereolab. More importantly, it set the stage for one of the band’s central themes on their debut album: resist the forces that silence us. “The punk rock and DIY community realize that [printed matter] only grows more important as we become so sanitized and censored by fascist forces and social media.”
Many of the tracks on the album deal with feeling trapped, emotionally and physically, and touch on the bleakness of isolation. Their single “It Will Get Worse” repeats the refrain “running out of time” over clashing guitars with a detached, disaffected tone.
“I feel like we're all being confronted by just how massive uncertainties are really present in our lives in terms of things that we obviously can't control. Some of that is time and some of that is war and destruction,” Case says. While Slater compares their lyrics to a new take on the classic rage-against-the-machine-spirit of Dead Kennedys’ “Nazi Punks Fuck Off,” Lifeguard seems to be rebelling against the algorithm, not violence at punk shows. Their critique of the world around them is just as punk, addressing the issues that affect them today.
“Every generation needs to do the work to combat what they think is making things worse,” Lowenstein says. “I think for us, it's really important to try avoiding all the algorithmic shit and all the distractions.” For Lifeguard, combating being terminally online means putting down the phone and getting to a show. Adds Case, “The way that music can bring people into the same space is important. We're really trying to keep that in-person type of connection."
When asked if they feel out of step with their generation, they don’t entirely disagree. They express frustration with how people don’t communicate anymore and how social media subtly distracts us, often draining the energy from real-life interactions. More importantly, they rebel against making music for TikTok. Their discomfort doesn’t suggest they were born in the wrong time, but rather that there's work to be done. Their dissatisfaction is more about action than resignation.
On Ripped and Torn, they’ve taken action. By referencing the past, which they do plenty of on this record, they time travel track-by-track. On “Under Your Reach,” they channel ‘70s post-punkers Wire, later summoning The Rapture and the not-so-far gone dance-punk days of aughts “How To Say Deisair.” For the band, their album isn’t just punk-rock trivia for older fans to recognize, nor is it a claim that only older music is worth listening to. In fact, all the bands they’re compared to made their most impactful records when they were young themselves.
“We might be tapping into something that may not be particularly in vogue at the moment, but that doesn't mean that we're making music for old people to relive their teenage days.” Lowenstein says. “We are our own youth.” The trio is not here to “bring back rock-n-roll” or some such cringey statement, they are just a band whose turn it is to make that urgent, innovative, and transgressive music that they fell in love with.
In many ways it's a cosmic full circle moment that the band has landed on tastemaker label Matador Records, which has for decades released albums by another trio to which Lifeguard feels kindred, Yo La Tengo. “Yo La Tengo can sell out all these shows. The world loves them but they're still so weird and pushing against the status quo,” Slater says.
Ripped and Torn was recorded by Randy Randall of No Age, a highly regarded DIY band that, like Lifeguard, represented a music movement, but one in the early ‘00s based out of the Los Angeles all-ages venue The Smell. The album sounds scuzzy and punchy all at once, like it's being played through a boombox in a concrete room. No sleek, shiny production. “We can make whatever record we want,” Slater says. “It can be as crazy and as screwed up as we want it to be and the concern has never been like, ‘Is this going to rake in enough dollars?’”
From the success the band has had already, landing a record deal while still in high school, to Slater producing Stranger Things Finn Wolfhard’s debut album Happy Birthday, it's clear the kids are looking for something unpolished and real. What is most important to Lifeguard is not the accolades or whatever exciting triumphs are on the horizon, but preserving their counterculture.
Slater says they don't consider themselves “rock gods,” or that they are “carrying the torch,” but more simply: “We're people that really, really care about the DIY scene. It’s something that you really have to work hard to keep alive.” And you have to believe them. When prompted about another rock cliche — the major label deal —Slater emphatically affirms, “If we got a record contract from Capitol today, I promise you we would not take that shit. We really do not care about being on a TikTok label.”
