The 1953s are what happens when people who’ve been friends for over forty years finally decide to “make music,” despite showing no measurable evidence that they should. After decades of talking about writing songs, they’ve heroically leapt into action — by proving they are, in fact, hack-level amateurs with the combined musical skill of a damp cardboard box.

Their process is simple: write songs they barely understand, record them with equipment they don’t know how to use, and proudly release demo-ish tracks that sound like they were captured during a mild earthquake. 

These are men who approach music the way toddlers approach finger paint — with enthusiasm, confusion, and absolutely no technique.

They claim to be “musically and lyrically illiterate,” and for once, a band is telling the truth. The 1953s have mastered the art of being just good enough to finish a song, but nowhere near good enough to explain how they did it. And honestly, that’s their charm. No polish. No pretense. No talent. Just lifelong friends making noise and calling it music.

If you’re here, prepare yourself. Lower your expectations to ground level. Maybe even below that. Because The 1953s aren’t trying to be great — they’re trying to be them. And somehow, that’s exactly why you’ll end up loving this disaster of a Who's That group.