Local Review: MetricDriver, Sacred Crates – The Perfect Strangers

MetricDriver, Sacred Crates
The Perfect Strangers
Always Anxious
Street: 01.27.2026 
MetricDriver, Sacred Crates = Daft Punk + Vektroid + Pogo x whatever was left recorded on my DVR

*the indistinct chatter of a live studio audio* Alright, quiet on set, everyone! We’re running for real this time — no dress rehearsal! Filming “Local Review: The Perfect Strangers. Scene: Intro.” Cue cards ready! Camera 1 to center stage, spotlight on our writer! Dim background! Sound speed — get that boom mic out of the shot! Thank you! Ready? Marker *click* rolling…aaaand… ACTION!

Welcome to the world of nostalgia, where memories are exploitable no matter which decade. Trust me, I’m a victim of falling into the same trap where I’ll grunt out “they just don’t make them like they used to” to any entertainment manufactured after 2020. Nostalgia plays this tiptoeing flamenco, swapping spit with sacredness and saturation. True, you might not want some greedy studio executive to touch your favorite coming-of-age tale like The Goonies or The Sandlot, yet you’ll be eating out of their palms when a show based around the same time period with the same message and same adolescent adventure drops a trailer. Deep down, whatever your taste of viewable pleasure, we want to be part of that world (Thanks, Ariel). And it feels like beatmasters of ambience MetricDriver and Sacred Crates have pried open the soundstage to your favorite television show and fully merged us fellow listeners right into a rerun episode of The Perfect Strangers… “I don’t know, man. This script seems pretty cheesy to me.”

Each beat on this synth-pop EP blasts you with a refreshing static glow of what sounds like ‘80s TV sitcoms. “Intro (Theme Music)” is exactly what it sounds like: upbeat go-get-‘em entertaining with xylophone beeps on a toy keyboard, and that classic guitar riff to add a bit of Miami Vice cocaine in your Tab soda. Then, you swing into tracks like “Gumball Swinger” or “Fashion,” which are jazzy numbers with a lot of pulling weight to kick the house party into gear (or even anticipate a worthwhile match while waiting in the GoldenEye 007 lobby). However, things take a drastic and surreal turn when the “Commercial break” kicks down the door with less-than-subtle social commentary on America’s love for destruction. Yet we’re “Back to our scheduled program” of snippets of a funkadelic groove to cruise to with the top off your 1985 Ferrari 308 GTS.

Now I don’t want to gripe on the album too hard for having such glow stick-charged bangers that you could easily melt away to. But that’s just it — the album consists of 22 tracks of atmospheric tones, all ranging in length from full 3-minute interludes to nibbling 35 seconds. This robustness of packaging so many songs with little-to-no lyricism feels drawn out to the point where I’m asking myself, “Where are we going with this?” The mixing and shuffling of sound bits range from classical music to national security broadcasting, making it a true question mark once each track starts. Sadly, I feel as if this mixed bag approach was intentional, like some amateur collage artist was cutting up a MAD Magazine, modge-podged his snippets on a background and said, “Fuck it, that looks dope.” It’s an easy listen, but after too long, it feels like a “continue?” screen of your favorite cabinet game as you watch your turn countdown to the inevitable GAME OVER.

The Perfect Strangers is a time warp of throwback sounds, in both positive and negative ways. I enjoyed my stay surfing the blocky T.V. Guide, yet just like not finding the right show to watch, I was satisfied. If your gimmick is a sound wave Time Machine attached with an active antenna, then take us all the way! The ’80s were an anchor era for pop culture and sociology (we could’ve ditched Reaganomics though), so let’s go bold with the beats! Be as experimental and new-wave as the Decade of Decadence instead of half-frying the core vibe. Either way, The Perfect Strangers is pretty good. Let’s just hope it’s not destined to spend an eternity trapped in the bumpers between late-night infomercials. 

AND CUT! —Alton Barnhart

Read more by Alton Barnhart:
Affordably Avant-Garde: Fashion On A Budget
Forty Years of Needle Drops: Celebrating Graywhale

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