Sisters: Ghost Fits

It’s great that the indie-rock scene has finally accrued some measure of mainstream credibility, but there’s still something to be said for the old late-’80s-SST/early-’90s-Matador aesthetic of lo-fi, low-rent, catchy-but-noisy, guitar-driven rock ’n’ roll. One minute into Ghost Fits, the debut album from Brooklyn duo Sisters, guitarist Aaron Pfannebecker launches into the record’s first solo: an eruptive, distorted blast that interrupts the proceedings, as though it couldn’t bear to wait patiently through another chorus. Or maybe it’s that the song itself—“The Curse”—was never meant to be any more than a guitar-delivery device, in the manner of so much of the best Dinosaur Jr. and Sonic Youth tracks. Sisters’ drummer-organist Matt Conboy adds plenty of volume and drive, and Pfannebecker’s voice has an unpolished affability that recalls Stephen Malkmus and Robert Pollard, but Ghost Fits is mainly built for people who like roaring, clanging guitars that start loud and get louder with each verse. It’s an album that revels in that age-old tension between ear-bending sound and one scruffy dude’s small, strong voice muttering against the crashing tide.