Drunk Tigers Split Cassette by Andrew Cedermark – A Lo-Fi Gem That Sticks With You
You know those albums that feel like they were made just for you? Like, someone snuck into your brain and pulled out all the sounds you didn’t even know you needed? That’s what Drunk Tigers Split Cassette by Andrew Cedermark feels like. Released back in 2010 on Funny / Not Funny Records, this little slice of indie rock heaven is messy in all the right ways—lo-fi vibes, raw energy, and a whole lot of heart.
Let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a summer sidewalk: “Masterpiece” and “Memory.”
“Masterpiece” kicks things off with this jangly guitar riff that feels both lazy and urgent at the same time (if that makes any sense). It’s kinda like when you’re walking home late at night, half-drunk, thinking about life but also kinda not. The lyrics are simple enough, but there’s something so honest about them—it’s like Andrew’s whispering secrets straight into your ear. By the time the chorus hits, it’s not flashy or overproduced; it just is. And somehow, that’s exactly what makes it unforgettable.
Then there’s “Memory,” which closes out the album with this haunting, almost fragile vibe. The guitars shimmer like sunlight through dirty windows, and the vocals sound like they’re coming from another room. There’s no big explosion or dramatic finish—it fades away quietly, leaving you sitting there wondering where the hell the last 30 minutes went. I swear, every time I hear it, I get this weird lump in my throat. It’s nostalgic without being sappy, if that makes sense.
The rest of the album keeps up the same vibe—tracks like “Ocean Boogie” and “Lookin’ For A Boswell (Oranges)” keep things loose and unpredictable, while deeper cuts like “Poverty” hit harder than you’d expect from an album this scrappy. But honestly, it’s not about perfection here. This isn’t some polished studio masterpiece—it’s more like flipping through an old photo album full of Polaroids. Some pics are blurry, others are crooked, but damn if they don’t capture the moment perfectly.
What’s wild is how Drunk Tigers Split Cassette manages to feel timeless despite its rough edges. In a world obsessed with playlists and algorithms, this album reminds you why music matters—it’s personal, imperfect, and real. It doesn’t try too hard to impress you, and maybe that’s why it does.
So yeah, go listen to this thing. Pop it on while you’re cleaning your room or zoning out on a rainy afternoon. Just don’t blame me if you find yourself hitting repeat way too many times. Oh, and one last thing: after listening to this, I kinda wanna start a band. Or at least learn how to play guitar badly.
