Skip to content
The Beach Impediment Label is proud to present the debut release from Canal Irreal. This 12" brandishes 9 tracks of absolutely driving hardcore punk rock with the unmistakable bullhorn vocals of Martin Sorrondeguy, steering this careening blur in and out of tightly written musical corners. Featuring members of Sin Orden as well, there is a lot of Chicago punk rock DNA in here manifesting itself as aggression draped in burning, melancholic guitar leads and an unpredictable hazy melodic wash. Like Greg Sage ghost writing a Naked Raygun track while vacationing in Southern California! Recorded by guitarist Scott Plant and mastered by Jonah Falco, each record comes in a UV Gloss jacket adorned with art by Martin.
Our take: When I first listened to the preview track on Beach Impediment’s Bandcamp site, I knew nothing about Canal Irreal. I don’t think I’d ever heard their name before. Going in with no expectations, I was blown away. I had to stop and be like “what the fuck IS this?” and it seriously bummed me out when I saw it was the only track that was streaming. (It’s now streaming in full and on streaming services too, so you won’t encounter this problem.) When I investigated further, I realized this band rules so much because they’re a group full of ringers. First up, there is guitarist Scott Plant, one of my favorite current musicians in the world. I first fell in love with Scott’s music through his old band, Civic Progress. (If you aren’t familiar, check out their Petrolem Man EP on YouTube. And, word to the wise, I just checked Discogs and Civic Progress’s EPs are officially dollar bin rippers.) Civic Progress played the 80s USHC-influenced style that was popular at the time (2006-7), but set themselves apart with a style that had a whiff of post-punk and Scott’s lyrics, which were already revealing the astute social analysis, elegant wordsmithery, and occasional Doc Dart-esque uncomfortable bluntness that remain hallmarks of his unique voice. (Sorry for all the parentheses. I am having a lot of parenthetical thoughts. I’m just going to go with it. Since we’re in a parenthetical right now anyway, I might as well mention two other lyricists who are stylistically similar to Scott and just as good: Nathan Ward from Knowso, because their new record also arrived this week and won by a hair’s breadth in the competition for my heart that is Sorry State’s Record of the Week, and Rich Ivey from ISS, because he’s fucking family, like H2o and Madball or some shit. But back to Scott Plant…) Civic Progress was based in St. Louis, but in the late 00s Scott moved to Chicago, which is when I got into the Scott Plant business for a brief but exciting moment. Scott’s new bands in Chicago were Manipulation (Sorry State Records numbers 28 and 54, the former of which is still in stock) and Broken Prayer (Sorry State Records numbers 52 and 71, both of which are still in stock and the former of which is housed in a jacket, screen printed by moi, whose quality I no longer stand behind). Having revealed myself as an incompetent at some point in this space of time, Scott soon set sail for greener label pastures. Broken Prayer morphed into Droid’s Blood (whose two vinyl releases are in stock at Sorry State) and even a solo electronic 10” lathe cut under his own name (It was limited as fuck yet as of this writing our inventory says we still have one copy). I’m throwing a lot of names at you here, but I also want to emphasize that through each of those projects, Scott’s music has become more ambitious, more original, and more exciting. Also, like a lot of musical geniuses, Scott has grown interested in synthesizers. Broken Prayer and Droid’s Blood featured synths (my newly Swedish friend Liz Panella played some of them in Broken Prayer, while Scott took over in Droid’s Blood) and also flirted with the harsh yet evocative textures of power electronics, while Scott’s work under his own name is less noisy and more rhythmic. Which brings us roughly to today, wherein I’m telling you that Scott Plant HAS RETURNED TO THE STRINGED INSTRUMENT! (AND IT IS GLORIOUS!) And that’s what the fuck you hear in Canal Irreal. I know nothing about Canal Irreal’s inner workings (I didn’t even know they were a band until a few days ago), but these songs are so strewn with Scott Plant’s musical fingerprints I would be surprised if someone informed me he “just played guitar.” Whatever Scott Plant’s creative role, someone in this band knows how to write a mother fucking punk song, and these energetic and hooky tracks are great ones, with one foot foot in hardcore, one foot in UK post-punk, and a healthy appreciation for classic Chicago punk with huge hooks like Naked Raygun and the Effigies. (Sound familiar? If not, you might want to re-read what I wrote about Civic Progress near the top of this lengthy description. And it’s about to get lengthier, motherfuckers, because SCOTT PLANT IS ONLY ONE FOURTH OF THIS BAND!) As member #2 in this lineup (which I did not plan before I started writing and am here emphasizing is in no particular order) we have MARTIN FUCKING SORRONDEGUY. Yes, Martin from Los Crudos and Limp Wrist, though if you’ve even attempted to read this entire description you are the type of person who almost certainly has a lesser-known Martin project that is even closer to your heart. (I’m going to go with Needles (about whom I’m going to resist the urge to rhapsodize right now), though there are no wrong answers.) I’m going to assume that Scott Plant doesn’t write any of the lyrics in Canal Irreal and say that, if you’re going to bump Scott off lyric writing duty, you better know what the fuck you’re doing, but this is not an issue because Martin is one of the greatest lyricists in the entire history of punk. I can only provide limited insight into this given that my command of Spanish is minimal (though Martin’s writing in English hints at what us poor monolinguals are missing), but suffice to say that, based in no small part on his lyrics, Martin is perhaps the single most important punk of the post-1990 era. (Though Martin is one of those people who seems so good at everything that his photography, work as a punk historian and archivist, graphic design, films, and more things I’m sure I’m forgetting are just as important to mention.) Where were we? Oh yeah, we’re halfway through the list of members. Fortunately for you, I am less familiar with the work of bassist Fernando Anteliz and drummer Lupe Garza, but they prove themselves to be Scott and Martin’s musical peers here, playing no small part in generating that perfect combination of hardcore punk and post-punk that blew me away on my first listen. I don’t have a way to wrap this up, so I’ll say that hopefully you stopped reading by now to devote your attention to listening to this record. If that’s the case, when you buy the vinyl, I hope you buy it from Sorry State. I already got my copy so I am cool with selling the rest of them, but I will experience a twinge of sadness when it is no longer in stock. If you are still reading this and haven’t checked out the record, I imagine you must be in some kind of situation where you can read this, but cannot listen stream the record Perhaps you are in the waiting area at the DMV and you do not have any headphones. Or maybe you’re on a camping trip and, before you got out of cellular range, you saved this piece of writing to some sort of app or service that allows you to access it when you’re offline. If you’re the person on the camping trip, you’re probably great at planning and you already made yourself a note to check out the Canal Irreal album. If you are not the person on the camping trip, this should serve as a reminder that you should make said note and put it somewhere you will see it. If you’re in a pinch you can write it on your hand. And, since no one is reading this anyway, I’ll also apologize to the people I mentioned if any of the information herein is erroneous. I’m just a fan with no fact checking department doing my best.
Our take: When I first listened to the preview track on Beach Impediment’s Bandcamp site, I knew nothing about Canal Irreal. I don’t think I’d ever heard their name before. Going in with no expectations, I was blown away. I had to stop and be like “what the fuck IS this?” and it seriously bummed me out when I saw it was the only track that was streaming. (It’s now streaming in full and on streaming services too, so you won’t encounter this problem.) When I investigated further, I realized this band rules so much because they’re a group full of ringers. First up, there is guitarist Scott Plant, one of my favorite current musicians in the world. I first fell in love with Scott’s music through his old band, Civic Progress. (If you aren’t familiar, check out their Petrolem Man EP on YouTube. And, word to the wise, I just checked Discogs and Civic Progress’s EPs are officially dollar bin rippers.) Civic Progress played the 80s USHC-influenced style that was popular at the time (2006-7), but set themselves apart with a style that had a whiff of post-punk and Scott’s lyrics, which were already revealing the astute social analysis, elegant wordsmithery, and occasional Doc Dart-esque uncomfortable bluntness that remain hallmarks of his unique voice. (Sorry for all the parentheses. I am having a lot of parenthetical thoughts. I’m just going to go with it. Since we’re in a parenthetical right now anyway, I might as well mention two other lyricists who are stylistically similar to Scott and just as good: Nathan Ward from Knowso, because their new record also arrived this week and won by a hair’s breadth in the competition for my heart that is Sorry State’s Record of the Week, and Rich Ivey from ISS, because he’s fucking family, like H2o and Madball or some shit. But back to Scott Plant…) Civic Progress was based in St. Louis, but in the late 00s Scott moved to Chicago, which is when I got into the Scott Plant business for a brief but exciting moment. Scott’s new bands in Chicago were Manipulation (Sorry State Records numbers 28 and 54, the former of which is still in stock) and Broken Prayer (Sorry State Records numbers 52 and 71, both of which are still in stock and the former of which is housed in a jacket, screen printed by moi, whose quality I no longer stand behind). Having revealed myself as an incompetent at some point in this space of time, Scott soon set sail for greener label pastures. Broken Prayer morphed into Droid’s Blood (whose two vinyl releases are in stock at Sorry State) and even a solo electronic 10” lathe cut under his own name (It was limited as fuck yet as of this writing our inventory says we still have one copy). I’m throwing a lot of names at you here, but I also want to emphasize that through each of those projects, Scott’s music has become more ambitious, more original, and more exciting. Also, like a lot of musical geniuses, Scott has grown interested in synthesizers. Broken Prayer and Droid’s Blood featured synths (my newly Swedish friend Liz Panella played some of them in Broken Prayer, while Scott took over in Droid’s Blood) and also flirted with the harsh yet evocative textures of power electronics, while Scott’s work under his own name is less noisy and more rhythmic. Which brings us roughly to today, wherein I’m telling you that Scott Plant HAS RETURNED TO THE STRINGED INSTRUMENT! (AND IT IS GLORIOUS!) And that’s what the fuck you hear in Canal Irreal. I know nothing about Canal Irreal’s inner workings (I didn’t even know they were a band until a few days ago), but these songs are so strewn with Scott Plant’s musical fingerprints I would be surprised if someone informed me he “just played guitar.” Whatever Scott Plant’s creative role, someone in this band knows how to write a mother fucking punk song, and these energetic and hooky tracks are great ones, with one foot foot in hardcore, one foot in UK post-punk, and a healthy appreciation for classic Chicago punk with huge hooks like Naked Raygun and the Effigies. (Sound familiar? If not, you might want to re-read what I wrote about Civic Progress near the top of this lengthy description. And it’s about to get lengthier, motherfuckers, because SCOTT PLANT IS ONLY ONE FOURTH OF THIS BAND!) As member #2 in this lineup (which I did not plan before I started writing and am here emphasizing is in no particular order) we have MARTIN FUCKING SORRONDEGUY. Yes, Martin from Los Crudos and Limp Wrist, though if you’ve even attempted to read this entire description you are the type of person who almost certainly has a lesser-known Martin project that is even closer to your heart. (I’m going to go with Needles (about whom I’m going to resist the urge to rhapsodize right now), though there are no wrong answers.) I’m going to assume that Scott Plant doesn’t write any of the lyrics in Canal Irreal and say that, if you’re going to bump Scott off lyric writing duty, you better know what the fuck you’re doing, but this is not an issue because Martin is one of the greatest lyricists in the entire history of punk. I can only provide limited insight into this given that my command of Spanish is minimal (though Martin’s writing in English hints at what us poor monolinguals are missing), but suffice to say that, based in no small part on his lyrics, Martin is perhaps the single most important punk of the post-1990 era. (Though Martin is one of those people who seems so good at everything that his photography, work as a punk historian and archivist, graphic design, films, and more things I’m sure I’m forgetting are just as important to mention.) Where were we? Oh yeah, we’re halfway through the list of members. Fortunately for you, I am less familiar with the work of bassist Fernando Anteliz and drummer Lupe Garza, but they prove themselves to be Scott and Martin’s musical peers here, playing no small part in generating that perfect combination of hardcore punk and post-punk that blew me away on my first listen. I don’t have a way to wrap this up, so I’ll say that hopefully you stopped reading by now to devote your attention to listening to this record. If that’s the case, when you buy the vinyl, I hope you buy it from Sorry State. I already got my copy so I am cool with selling the rest of them, but I will experience a twinge of sadness when it is no longer in stock. If you are still reading this and haven’t checked out the record, I imagine you must be in some kind of situation where you can read this, but cannot listen stream the record Perhaps you are in the waiting area at the DMV and you do not have any headphones. Or maybe you’re on a camping trip and, before you got out of cellular range, you saved this piece of writing to some sort of app or service that allows you to access it when you’re offline. If you’re the person on the camping trip, you’re probably great at planning and you already made yourself a note to check out the Canal Irreal album. If you are not the person on the camping trip, this should serve as a reminder that you should make said note and put it somewhere you will see it. If you’re in a pinch you can write it on your hand. And, since no one is reading this anyway, I’ll also apologize to the people I mentioned if any of the information herein is erroneous. I’m just a fan with no fact checking department doing my best.