If John Blutarsky were a punk, he'd be Butchered.
The Chinchees are songs for spraying champagne. The Chinchees are songs for throwing uncomfortable amounts of glitter. The Chinchees are songs for folks who are willing to dress nice in a Salvation Army sort of way. The Chinchees are anthems fit for a raucous party in your friend’s basement speakeasy. The Chinchees are noise. The Chinchees are pop incarnate. The Chinchees are your new favorite earworm from Minneapolis. Like any great tale of any great Midwestern/Minneapolis band, The Chinchees started over a game of darts in a dive bar. Featuring members of Nato Coles and The Blue Diamond Band and The Manix, the trio's members bonded over late night adventures, sharing oysters, creating strange grape-themed parties, all while making demos on an ancient Hewlett Packard. This is how the sound and the shape of The Chinchees came together. You have a guitar player whose feedback is debatably too loud, a drummer whose face appears to be stuck in a smiling position sizzling away at the hi-hat, and a fuzzed out bass player bouncing around with glasses strapped immutably to the face. At any moment, a member of the band may sing the hook or may share their sweetest attempt at a falsetto. They will play too many eighth notes.
Unwelcome Guests from Buffalo, NY sound like the Replacements or Husker Du.
Big dumb rock music, for tiny intelligent humans.