Cold Court, a brother-and-sister pair from Philadelphia, seem happiest when throwing every sound they love into one overloaded blender. The result loosely fits alongside the blown-out hyperpop associated with artists such as 100 Gecs, but their approach lands differently. Where tracks like “Dumbest Girl Alive” playfully nudge pop-punk and emo with a wink, Cold Court lean into the chaos with a straighter face — and that seriousness ultimately works in their favor.
“Nina,” the first song on the duo’s debut EP (^_^) / (also known as Hands Up), initially suggests the angular dance-punk explosion of the mid-2000s, with shades of Franz Ferdinand or Test Icicles. Roughly a minute in, though, the track begins to warp: the grimy guitar figure is sliced apart and pushed through a beat-repeater effect. A little later, it drifts into a smoother, prog-leaning bridge that evokes The Mars Volta before collapsing into a finale of glitches, distortion and digital wreckage.
Much of the EP follows that same restless blueprint. The songs on Hands Up appear to have begun as fairly physical drum-and-guitar ideas, but Mini and Jojo then pushed them through a machine, stacking textures, reshuffling structures and coating everything in effects. The single “Burn” may be the clearest distillation of that process, fusing oversized rock riffs, Daft Punk-style synth tones, dubstep-style edits, Auto-Tuned vocals and even a rapped middle section. Somehow, all those ingredients lock into one snarling, unified blast as they yell, “I just want to see it burn, give a fuck about your word.”
The writing may not be especially profound, but in this context, it hits the mark.
Cold Court are clearly drawn to maximalism, though not every track reaches for the same level of overdrive as “Burn.” “Cola” slows the pace and pares back a few layers without sacrificing impact. “Glass” edges toward math rock as its guitar lines are diced up and reassembled, while closing track “Light” pushes into blown-out, glittering prog territory.
Across a full-length album, this kind of nonstop sensory assault could easily become draining. At 21 minutes, however, Hands Up keeps its intensity contained, making for a compact and promising introduction — and leaving plenty of reason to watch how the young duo develops from here.
