Milwaukee’s Cryptids are back, and they’ve brought a fresh dose of snarl, sweat, and basement-show energy with their new release, “Creature Comforts.” If you’ve been keeping an ear to the cracked concrete of Milwaukee’s punk underground, you already know these guys don’t do polite. Tracks like “Garbage Man,” “Pig Pen,” and “Jonestown Party Bus” laid the groundwork — a fuzzed-out, hook-forward brand of punk that wears its influences on a beer-stained sleeve.

“Creature Comforts” leans even further into what Cryptids do best: short, sharp songs that feel like they were written in a kitchen at 2 a.m. and recorded before anyone had a chance to talk them out of it. There’s a scrappy charm here — buzzsaw guitars, drums that punch above their weight, and vocals that sound like they’ve been gargling cheap lager and Midwestern resentment in equal measure. It’s punk that isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel; it’s trying to throw the wheel through a window.

What makes the record land is its sense of humor. Cryptids have always had a tongue-in-cheek streak running through their material, and “Creature Comforts” plays into that — songs that feel like inside jokes you’re suddenly invited to be part of. Underneath the gallows grin, though, there’s a real love for the form: tight arrangements, memorable riffs, and a knack for building tension before letting a chorus crash through the wall.

For a city that has quietly built one of the most reliable punk and DIY scenes in the Midwest, Cryptids fit right in alongside Milwaukee’s long lineage of loud, weird, and self-aware bands. “Creature Comforts” feels less like a polished statement and more like a snapshot — a band locked in, working fast, and trusting their instincts.

Check out the record below: