1977 is the perfect example of a scrappy, youthful garage rock album that thrives on energy over technical precision. It’s raw, slightly grungy, and packed with infectious hooks, making it easy to see why it connected so strongly with fans of loud, unpolished rock. The album kicks off with Lose Control, a breakneck opener that throws you straight into the chaos, setting the tone for an album that never really slows down. Ash’s brand of punk-tinged power pop isn’t about complexity—it’s about capturing the reckless excitement of being young, and they absolutely nail it. Girl from Mars is the obvious standout, a perfect mix of melody and grit that lodges itself in your brain immediately. The production is just messy enough to feel authentic but never so much that it buries the anthemic quality of the songwriting. While the album is full of great moments, it’s not flawless. Some tracks, like I’d Give You Anything, feel a bit more like raw noise than structured songs, and while the vocals work within the album’s loose, garage-rock feel, they don’t always carry enough personality to elevate every track. The lyrics aren’t groundbreaking, but they do what they need to—channel the youthful spirit and reckless abandon that make the whole record feel so honest. The Star Wars nods scattered throughout only add to the charm, reinforcing that 1977 isn’t just a title, but a full embrace of the band’s influences and sense of fun. It’s loud, unrefined, and maybe a little rough around the edges, but that’s exactly why it works so well.