Album Review: Preacher Maker by Clown Sounds (2018)

Clown Sounds’ Preacher Maker is a wild, genre-bending ride that blurs the lines between punk, garage rock, and noise-pop, showcasing the band’s knack for crafting songs that are both chaotic and catchy. Released in 2018, this album sees the band embracing a more polished yet still scrappy sound, delivering 8 tracks that maintain the raw energy of DIY punk but with a tighter focus on melody and atmosphere.

Fronted by Todd Congelliere (also of F.Y.P and Toys That Kill), Clown Sounds brings a wealth of experience from the Southern California punk scene, but on Preacher Maker, they take a more expansive approach to their songwriting. While their previous work leaned heavily into noisy, fast-paced punk rock, this album feels more layered and dynamic, without losing the grit and unpredictability that defines their music.

The album opens with the track, “Nah AH ah Ah,” a driving, garage-punk anthem that sets the tone for what’s to come. It’s aggressive, but there’s a certain looseness to the music, as if the band is constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. The guitars are heavy, distorted, and drenched in feedback, but the melodic undercurrent is unmistakable. Congelliere’s vocals—equal parts shout and sneer—are raw but compelling, delivering the lyrics with a kind of reckless abandon that matches the song’s energy.

Tracks like “Daddy Looks Frightened” and “I Pawned My Soul” continue the album’s high-octane momentum, with fast tempos, sharp guitar riffs, and infectious hooks. Clown Sounds have an uncanny ability to craft songs that sound messy on the surface, but are actually meticulously constructed to keep the listener engaged. The melodies shine through the layers of distortion, creating an irresistible tension between noise and pop sensibilities.

One of the standout features of Preacher Maker is its willingness to experiment with different sounds and structures. Songs like “Like A Lamb” and “Lucy” slow things down a bit, allowing the band to stretch out and explore darker, more atmospheric territory. These tracks retain the punk ethos but introduce a sense of moodiness and depth that wasn’t as prominent in the band’s earlier work. It’s these moments that show Clown Sounds pushing their own boundaries and refusing to be confined to a single style.

While the album embraces a more expansive sound, it never strays too far from the raw, DIY spirit that defines Congelliere’s projects. There’s a constant push-pull between melody and chaos, and even at its most melodic, Preacher Maker retains a sense of danger and unpredictability. 

Production-wise, Preacher Maker strikes a balance between clarity and grit. The guitars are thick and heavy, the drums punch through the mix with relentless energy, and Congelliere’s vocals are given just enough room to cut through the noise without losing their rough edge. It’s a lo-fi aesthetic, but with enough polish to highlight the band’s ability to write compelling hooks.

Lyrically, Preacher Maker swings between dark introspection and wry humor. The songs often touch on themes of alienation, frustration, and self-awareness, but without ever slipping into self-pity or melodrama. Congelliere’s delivery is matter-of-fact, often masking the depth of the lyrics with his nonchalant, almost conversational style.

In the end, Preacher Maker is a record that succeeds in being both visceral and thoughtful, chaotic and controlled. It’s an album that feels like a logical progression for Clown Sounds, pushing their sound forward without abandoning the raw energy and unpredictability that has always been their hallmark. For fans of punk that isn’t afraid to get a little weird and experiment with new ideas, Preacher Maker is a thrilling, cathartic listen from start to finish.