Teenage Kicks, Teenage Kicks

My foot starts frantically tapping from the first crashing guitar of “I Heart Lora Logic,” and it doesn’t stop ’til the very end of final track “Bound for Glory,” after which I have to shake my head, smile, and laugh at the ridiculously simple, plainspoken awesomeness of what these three Houston kids are doing. With this (far too short) four-song EP, Teenage Kicks have sucked in all those brilliant late-’70s/early-’80s Brit-pop influences and spit back out a snarling, catchy-as-fuck, blessedly un-ironic ball of rough-edged power-pop fury.

It’s damn near impossible not to namecheck the best-and-brightest of the bands these guys evoke and/or wear proudly on their sleeves — The Buzzcocks (first and foremost), The Jam, The Clash minus the politics, sadly overlooked punk icons The Boys, The Records, The Undertones (natch, given the band name), The Skids, Stiff Little Fingers, even Francophone latecomers Plastic Bertrand (especially the irrepressibly driving guitars in “Lora Logic”). Once “Bound for Glory” rolls around, though, the comparisons fall by the wayside and my jaw hits the floor as it becomes clear that Teenage Kicks are something all their own: sweat and hormones and teenage angst and anger all melted down into one big sticky, messy (but never sloppy) puddle by the H-town sun.

This stuff makes me want to pump my first in the air and pretend I’m back to being a kid, with all the uncertainty, bitter drama, and painful freedom stretching out before me once again. And I never in a million years thought I’d say it, but damn, that feels cool.