Puppet Wipes is the latest source of audio levitation for Arielle McCuaig (Hairnet, Janitor Scum, Vacuum Rebuilders) & Kayla MacNeill (Singing Lawn Chair, Vacuum Rebuilders) who conjure up their extraordinary odds bodkins out of Calgary, Alberta. Label fact checkers will note that Puppet Wipes are the 1st Canadian band ever signed to the Siltbreeze roster. That only took three decades. Anyway, their debut cassette from a couple years back, ‘It’s Called Punk, Are You Stupid?’—supposedly recorded in an hour—was a fetching melange of art damaged hoopla that sounded like it might’ve taken a spin around the Amos & Sara / It’s War Boys universe. On this one, the course settings remain seemingly intact, yet further realized. Plus it took a tad longer than 3600 seconds to behold. There’s a quote by the master of superfluousness, May Benot, that goes, ‘When the unconventionalists convey their art, which is by nature, unconventional, then does unconventionalism become part of a post conventionalist-conventionista?” Whatever you say, Mrs. Doublespeak. I’m not sure I even know what that means, but if I were a betting man, I’d say Puppet Wipes have it in spades. RIYL; Lemon Kittens, Your Mom Too, Doof, Dave E. McManus, XV.

Our take: The Stones Are Watching and They Can Be a Handful is the debut record from Calgary, Alberta, Canada’s Puppet Wipes, and while it came out in 2022, Siltbreeze recently repressed it. I totally missed out on it the first time, so here I am writing a description three years late. Puppet Wipes shares members with the Calgary band Janitor Scum, who released an LP on Lumpy Records in 2016 that I was just gaga over. If you also remember that record fondly, you’ll definitely want to check out Puppet Wipes, but be forewarned that things have gotten way weirder. The cloudy 4-track production is still there, as is the influence from the early years of the Fall, but rather than the danceable grooves of “Totally Wired,” it’s the eerie, inchoate Fall of Dragnet and Room to Live that looms over this album. Honestly, though, I’m reluctant to lean too hard into any comparisons because this record doesn’t sound much like anything I’ve heard before. The songs follow an idiosyncratic logic that is beyond my grasp, with instruments and vocals wandering in and out like tweakers making their way through a 7-11 at 3AM. It’s not like XV’s stream-of-consciousness “free punk,” but more of a fragmented dreamscape where nothing seems real or stable. The production is very raw and bathed in tape hiss, and while most songs are mixed to place the focus on one or two instruments, there are misty impressions of a lot more happening in the background. There aren’t really melodies you’ll walk away humming or grooves you’ll shake your hips to, but there’s something that holds my attention nonetheless. The Stones Are Watching is a confounding record, but I like being confounded, and the way this enigmatic record floats in and out of focus, just outside my intellect’s grasp, leaves me feeling like a pleasantly puzzled panther.