Badillac

Built around one of the most immediately satisfying guitar riffs in their catalog, this track has a swagger to it that's almost cinematic — the fuzz dialed up just enough to give it grit without burying the groove. The rhythm section lays down something almost danceable, a garage stomp that tips its hat to rock and roll's most basic pleasures. Keegan's voice is confident here, dryer and more assured than on some of their more anxious material, leaning into the character of the song rather than performing emotion. The subject is a car, but the car is never really just a car — it's a symbol of something worn down but still moving, something with history and damage that keeps running anyway. There's dark humor in the framing, an affection mixed with exasperation that feels very Los Angeles, very specific to that experience of loving something beat-up and barely functional. Culturally this is peak Together PANGEA — the band in full command of their aesthetic, which owes debts to '70s power pop, '90s alternative, and the California garage scene they helped define. It's the kind of song that shows up in movies about young people doing something slightly reckless, or in a record store staffed by someone with very good taste. Put it on when you want noise that also has momentum, energy that also has a hook you'll be humming for days afterward.