Crooked Cranes’ This is Only a Test – Basement-Born Chaos With a Heartbeat

This is Only a Test

Crooked Cranes’ debut EP, “This is Only a Test”, hits like a half-remembered night with your oldest friends—part reckless fun, part existential haze, and real. Hailing from Fuquay Varina, North Carolina, the band is the product of a long-standing friendship between Josh Faw, Dylan Hornaday, and Andrew Bateman, with Josh’s younger brother rounding out the lineup on bass. There’s no pretence, just four guys who came up on the fuzzed-out grit of Dinosaur Jr. and the ragged storytelling of Built to Spill, throwing it all into a basement stew of distortion, cheek, and sincerity.

Opening track “GF” is a fuzzy slap in the face and a perfect curtain-raiser for the EP’s chaotic ethos. The narrative, a bizarre tale of a man grappling with the fact that his father slept with his girlfriend, oscillates between absurdity and raw honesty. Faw’s vocals are delivered with an unfiltered, garage-baked bite that feels like someone shouting confessions into the void with a smirk. The guitars buzz like static on a broken TV, and the rhythm section keeps everything just this side of falling apart, but in the best possible way.

Then comes “Mehico,” a sharp left turn into sunburnt surf-rock territory. There’s brightness that shimmers beneath the track’s more serious undertone—an alleged encounter with a cartel jefe—told with the kind of flippant charm that defines Crooked Cranes’ approach to storytelling. It’s more jangly, a little cleaner, but still unmistakably theirs. You get the sense they’re winking through the danger, playing it cool while the world burns a little around them.

“Dolfin” and “Interstate Song” pull things into a dreamier lane. “Dolfin” is understated and trippy—a story about a girl who won’t give her name, floating on woozy chords and spacey reverb. “Interstate Song” is a hazy road trip soundtrack, its melody carrying a subdued weight, like a memory you can’t quite place. These tracks stretch the emotional bandwidth of the EP without ever losing its lo-fi pulse. You can almost hear the beer cans tipping over in the background.

“Met A Gurl” ramps the energy with a punkish snarl, drenched in messy feeling. It’s a divorce song, but not the sad, mopey kind. It’s blunt, fast, and bristling with frustration—the kind that still leaves room for irony. If this track were a person, it would be pacing in the driveway, chain-smoking, and laughing at the absurdity of it all. It’s this unfiltered emotionality that gives the EP its staying power.

Closing track “NeWay” is a fitting farewell, stoner rock heaven. The lyrics speak to getting high and letting the music take over, and that’s exactly what this song invites you to do. It doesn’t try to wrap things up neatly. It’s a final inhale, a musical exhale, a fuzzy guitar blanket thrown over the chaos. The band seems fully aware that their listeners are probably lighting up or zoning out, and they lean into that with thick riffs and woozy ambience.

“This is Only a Test” is a snapshot of youth unfiltered, scuffed, and soaked in sound. It’s an ode to those formative years spent in basements where nothing mattered except music, mischief, and making it through the night with a good story. Crooked Cranes may not take themselves too seriously, but make no mistake: this EP is good. It’s the kind of record you stumble upon and don’t want to stop spinning, because in all the fuzz and fun, it makes you feel less alone.

For more information, follow Crooked Cranes on Bandcamp and Spotify.