Album artwork for I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit by Shutups

From their masterfully titled, anthemic “Shit Opus,” to their growling, distorted guitar, Shutups could be effectively described as a group of anti-establishment California indie punks with a vested interest in encouraging capitalism’s implosion. Leaving it there would also be a disservice to the deliberation, complexity, and artistry in their music. The groups’ new album holds true to the distinctive niches they carved out to begin with, from bedroom pandemic production to post-isolation DIY maximalism. I can’t eat nearly as much as I want to vomit presents a very human expression of reality in spite of what is, overwhelmingly, a bad time––serving us a sort of seething, technicolor alternative sound that’s both intimate, furious, and inarguably cool.

Shutups

I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit

Kill Rock Stars
Album artwork for I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit by Shutups
CD

$14.99

Released 10/21/2022Catalog Number

CD-KRS-715

Learn more
Album artwork for I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit by Shutups
LP +

$22.99

Coke Bottle Clear Vinyl

Includes download code
Released 12/16/2022Catalog Number

LP-KRS-715C

Learn more
Shutups

I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit

Kill Rock Stars
Album artwork for I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit by Shutups
CD

$14.99

Released 10/21/2022Catalog Number

CD-KRS-715

Learn more
Album artwork for I can't eat nearly as much as I want to vomit by Shutups
LP +

$22.99

Coke Bottle Clear Vinyl

Includes download code
Released 12/16/2022Catalog Number

LP-KRS-715C

Learn more

From their masterfully titled, anthemic “Shit Opus,” to their growling, distorted guitar, Shutups could be effectively described as a group of anti-establishment California indie punks with a vested interest in encouraging capitalism’s implosion. Leaving it there would also be a disservice to the deliberation, complexity, and artistry in their music. The groups’ new album holds true to the distinctive niches they carved out to begin with, from bedroom pandemic production to post-isolation DIY maximalism. I can’t eat nearly as much as I want to vomit presents a very human expression of reality in spite of what is, overwhelmingly, a bad time––serving us a sort of seething, technicolor alternative sound that’s both intimate, furious, and inarguably cool.