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The four points of the compass swaying wildly in heavy fog, we head due inward, spurred on through a fluttering field of vision by the beat of a magnetic maniac. We've been on this path before, but things look different as the marauding ensues with new additions to the crew.
The second album from Night Mechanic features another great array of pulsing, melodic snapshots from the time travels and travails of some of the most affably recalcitrant characters around. At turns confessional and spilt forth with heedless abandon, "Working Late" has got to be some of the best songwriting in rock today.
"Earlier this year, Night Mechanic released Working Late and gave Portland yet another peppy, lightly punk-tinged, super-melodic guitar rock album to cram on the shelf along with all the others. But Working Late is something special, filled with joy and sorrow and the ingredients that make up everyday life—a deep and abiding love of music, the elation and frustration of professional sports, the much-needed stress release of hanging out with friends, the surging rush of an alcohol buzz, the sting of a first date gone terribly and irreversibly wrong. It's an album that sounds great and feels even better; Night Mechanic are not just making excellent smarty-pants rock, but they also sound like they're having a shit-ton of fun doing it, too." NED LANNAMANN, Portland Mercury
"Night Mechanic's third album will hit like a rush of blood to the heart for anyone wondering where all the great indie-rock guitar bands have gone. It's not just that the Portland four-piece keeps the amps cranked: Pat Bayliss and Chris Vallerga spend Day Surgery's brisk running time tying their instruments around each other in colorfully melodic knots, like a jumpier Built to Spill, minus the penchant for jamming off into the ether. These are nine tightly woven songs that move, and the 12-string interplay is what motors them along. If singer Andre Cobley takes a backseat, well, he is the one sitting on the drum throne. But if the guitars are the engine, Cobley is the guy with his foot on the accelerator. Dude knows how to write hooks that explode like a shaken soda can and exactly when to detonate them. Opener "Plywood Association of Nuts and Bolts" builds from its proggy announcing riff, and galloping "Whip It" drums into a throat-straining roar as Cobley introduces his "newborn son," "made from nuts and bolts in a jar." (It might be a metaphor for the songwriting process, or the description of an actual robot child. Hard to tell.) "Quaking Bush" is a springy bit of pogo-disco, while "Forceps" is a master class in tension release, skittering around before uncoiling into a big, ascendant chorus. Not once does Day Surgery drag its feet, and the band never lets its instrumental brawn get in the way of a good song. This is effusively likable power-pop that actually pops." Matthew Singer, Willamette Week