Super Thief’s Dump Sink is a Quick Blast of Relentless Intensity

by Brian J. Audette 

Super Thief Dump Sink

Another January, another Super Thief EP and once again they’ve come out swinging. The follow up to last year’s self-titled EP (which reintroduced the band as an altogether more hardcore entity) this latest EP Dump Sink continues the trend with a relentless and energetic auditory assault. Faster, louder, and tighter than ever before, Super Thief have crafted a platter of modern punk, poised to wake you from your winter doldrums and chase away the ghosts of Christmas mall muzak.

Even with as mild a winter as we’ve been having here in Austin, there’s something about this time of year that just feels oppressive to me. Gray skies and chill winds envelope me with their frozen embrace, while the echo of the cool, dry air and the lifeless limbs of trees offer little other than death and decay. It’s a time of year that always has me reaching for heavier, louder, oft times darker music, partly as an embrace of the insurmountable present, but also as defiance against its crushing weight. Super Thief’s previous self-titled EP fit perfectly into that mold: a bleak but energetically heavy exploration of addiction, desire, and anguish. Sonically it was a bit of a new direction for the band, whose previous efforts had been a bit more subdued; still punk, still aggressive, but jazzier, artier. I was warned in advance of listening to it, but was pleased with the result: a sound that more accurately reflected the intensity of Super Thief’s live show and one that (being a winter album) fit my mood perfectly at the time.

Dump Sink falls into a similar groove as its predecessor, showcasing a band that’s lost none of their intensity or raw energy over the past year. Compared to Super Thief‘s bleak, enshrouding weight Dump Sink is a much faster, quickfire burst of an EP, stylistically similar, but showing the band’s continued evolution. The EP wastes no time getting fast and getting loud with opener “Dog Fart.” Through an assault of guitars Cody Kimbell screams while Jay Dillick beats the drums senseless. A driving punk rock riff moshes its way through most of the song, only pausing briefly for a rhythm solo ¾ of the way through that ultimately builds to the song’s screeching climax. Follow up “Euthanasia” ups the ante with a staccato arrangement of guitar noise and percussion, laced with pure metal intensity. The song comes on strong and fast, exciting all the senses at once and then lingers just a moment before slamming the door on its way out.

If you’re not exhausted yet, “Bluddded” offers what (for this album) constitutes a “breather.” Slower paced and grim-faced it’s reminiscent of Drive Like Jehu’s post-hardcore intensity, noisy delivery, and undulating rhythms. Finally however “Fun w/Teeth” gives Cody’s vocals a rest after screeching out 3 monster tracks at the top of his lungs. A showcase for Super Thief’s rhythm section, the song is anchored by a meaty bass line and features slick drumming in lieu of vocals, over a noisy layering of guitar static.

As with many punk EP’s, Dump Sink is over all too soon, but well worth the time spent with it. While (knowing what this band is capable of) I’d liked to have heard some longer, less uniform songs from Super Thief this time around, what they’ve got in Dump Sink is solid both stylistically and in execution. Over the last couple of years Super Thief have forged a nuanced sound filled with foundation shaking, relentless intensity. Dump Sink along with its self-titled predecessor are the work of a band finding new footing and then immediately assuming an unassailable stance. Right now their kung fu is strong. They have no weaknesses. Whatever comes next should be a joy to discover.

Brian Audette lives somewhere in Austin within a pillow fort made of broken dreams. He only comes out to see shows and buy beer. He has a surprisingly well maintained lawn and is using it to breed an army of attack mosquitoes with which to take over the world. Brian can be reached at or on Twitter at @bjaudette.