The Catheters

At what point, exactly, did you really begin to hate garage rock? When legions of wanna-be retro-rockers took over the airwaves? When ad agencies started tapping into “that hipster sound” to sell Subarus and Happy Meals? Or when you were at Guitar Center, cringing as some golf-shirted goober flubbed the riff to “Seven Nation Army” while his pals stood around braying like oxygen-deprived donkeys? Well, before you swear off garage rock for good, give Howling … It Grows and Grows!!! a spin. The latest no-nonsense offering from Seattle quartet the Catheters rarely takes a mop to the band’s third album of sonic dive-bar filth and frenzy, preferring instead to writhe in a sloppy punk muck of fuzz-and-screech guitars, sweaty rhythms and frontman Brian Standeford’s collar-grabbing, broken-beer-bottle shrieks. It wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate to call Howling 33 recklessly charging minutes of Mudhoney/Stooges/Stones appreciation, but fuck if the Catheters don’t pull off the hero worship with sincerity, immediacy and charisma to burn. And they pass the ultimate garage-rock litmus test — making you feel like you need to shower after listening — with flying colors.