Since their inception in 2011, Mouth Washington have always been one of Portland’s scrappiest bands. Brothers Max and Zach Hansen, founding members of the band, are instantly likeable and totally unpredictable dudes with a penchant for mischief, the stuff punk rock dreams are made of. The revolving door cast of characters they’ve enlisted to be their sidemen, too, have always seemed like a lovable gang of freaks. Their stage shows are wild, possessing a gleefully reckless sense of aggression that sometimes threatened to overshadow the songs themselves in the outfit’s early days. And, if ever there was a problem in the Mouth Washington institution, it was that the boys’ reputation for rowdiness may have occasionally preceded them. Don’t Mean, Mouth Washington’s latest, is a genuine kick in the face, in the good way. It’s a sharply realized set of tunes that focuses on songwriting first and foremost, and proves the band to be more than just a brilliantly manic bundle of energy.
Early detractors of the band can be forgiven for declaring them a Modest Mouse soundalike. Dichotomy and Bronze Age, Mouth Washington’s earlier records, were not so subtle love letters to turn of the century Isaac Brock, all obscured slacker narrative and quirky characterization, topped off with pitch-bent harmonics and a hyper rhythmic sense of arrangement. Throw a pinch of classic nineties post-hardcore aggression into the mix, and a little of the epic storytelling country’s most eccentric outsiders (think Jason Molina, Townes Van Zandt) and you’ve got a pretty good facsimile of the group’s initial sound. “Fake Funeral,” one of the earliest tracks on Don’t Mean, reveals a newer, stronger and more inventive Mouth Washington. Yes, the Modest Mouse comparison can still be made, and I don’t think that
