Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four
decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle,
shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the
years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their
sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable.
In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee
Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It
was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years
later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called
Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an
artifact that "proves for decades [that Bush Tetras] continued to
evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time,
the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions
during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the
box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined
to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into
the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right.
They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who
also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head.
The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed alongside a catalog as expansive as it is influential),They Live in My
Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past
and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of
People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through
closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matterof-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done,
the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific
terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush
Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out
all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is
absolutely no exception.