Bright Sunshine Extreme Power Supreme Review
A Symphony of Middle Fingers and Flaming Briefcases...
Every so often, the universe pukes something into our inbox that doesn’t just kick, it jackknifes across six lanes of traffic, ejecting us through the sunroof, and leaves a crater smoking with righteous noise. That’s what Bright Sunshine just did. This isn’t music, it’s a weaponized HR violation dressed in a thrift store suit and covered in blood and gasoline fumes.
This new album, Executive Power Supreme, isn’t so much a record as it is a deranged PowerPoint presentation delivered during a hostile takeover of your central nervous system. And Bright Sunshine, they’re not here to make friends. They’re here to light the water cooler on fire and roast marshmallows over your unpaid overtime.
These Arizona maniacs sound like they were raised on expired Go-Gurt, broken printers, and VHS tapes of Beavis & Butthead. Their sound is a three-headed mutant hybrid of Green Jellö, Gwar, early Butthole Surfers, and your middle school cafeteria fight playlist. It’s Noise. It’s Punk. It’s Metal. Its chaos incarnate. It’s the musical equivalent of a raccoon in a Red Bull factory with opposable thumbs and a grudge against capitalism.
Let’s talk tone: the guitar is fuzzier than a wet Muppet in a dryer, the bass growls like it’s got rabies, and the drums hit like someone’s stapling your forehead to a fax machine. Vocals, imagine a disgruntled IT guy screaming into a megaphone while being eaten alive by office supplies. That’s the vibe.
The lyrics, Oh, sweet baby Satan. They’re a love letter to workplace hell, a cubicle-bound descent into madness. This thing reads like a diary scrawled in dry eraser marker during a panic attack in the janitor’s closet. There’s real rage here, but it’s wrapped in satire, dipped in sarcasm, and set on fire like an effigy of your district manager.
You want standout tracks, Step back: “Failure to Execute”, “Unlimited Bread Sticks”, “Business Lunch” and “Retention Efforts”.
This band doesn’t want a record deal. They want to break into the Capitol Records office and shit on every desk in the penthouse. They’re not gunning for mainstream appeal; they’re flipping the gun around and pistol-whipping the mainstream with it.
Executive Power Supreme isn’t here to climb the charts. It’s here to vomit on the charts, set them on fire, and dance naked in the ashes while screaming about corporate greed and TPS reports.
If you’re into pristine production, subtlety, or sanity, run. If you want to be bludgeoned by the sound of weaponized burnout and a band that sounds like it’s trying to escape from an Arby’s freezer then buy this album. Crank it. Scare your boss. Start a riot in the break room.
This is audio anarchy with a punchline and a pipe bomb.
This is Bright Sunshine.
This is war.