While Calgary’s scene seems to be a melting pot of garage and grimy punk, Telstar Drugs keeps the funk alive, visiting the fucked ends of the musical spectrum while still staying accessible. The eerie, crackling guitar lines are as puzzled together as those of their predecessors: so complicated, so little time. But even then, the indefinable pop prowess lurking behind the darkness of the songs is unmistakable. This release is only seeing the light of day after being recorded and stored for the past year, so folks better start praying for a new batch of tunes, and I mean pray to Telstar, your new gods.