If you’re anything like me, there’s a good chance you probably have some of your old cds, tapes, and records; and I’m talking old (but we won’t admit how old).

There’s a certain comfort in spending a few hours digging through some old memories and finding gems you used to jam out to all the time in your formative years. Lately there’s been an attempted resurgence of sounds from the 70s through, merely, a decade ago. Sadly, most of those sounds come across more as a fabricated lie than a sentiment-striking compilation.

I Don’t Know How But They Found Me, on the other hand, has found the formula that mixes those big shoulder pads, Roland Synth riddled memories into a fun, and I mean fun, EP. The aptly titled 1981 is like finding a wormhole into the Rockwell/Buggles world of poppy, synth-funk wild days of yesteryear. Quite impressively, Dallon Weekes and Ryan Seaman add enough fresh energy to not become a nauseating rehashing of the neon soaked 80s. Instead, 1981 feels more like the tape Matt Bellamy found buried in the attic under old VHS copies of early John Cusack films. It is a fun, funky EP you’d expect to become a summer soundtrack in your Walkman.

The loud, dancing grooves find home in “Choke”, “Social Climb”, “Bleed Magic”, “Absinthe”, and “Do It All The Time” before they move, permanently, into that familiar area of your brain that remembers great movie lines and your high school locker combination. Weekes and Seaman somehow manage to create quite a big sound in 1981 that firmly embodies the lush glory of the decade it so references all while, somehow, feeling incredibly present; if not visionary.

National leaders, tolerance, and foreign politics aren’t the only things feeling very 1981 anymore. Though while we’re here, I Don’t Know How But They Found Me certainly is the most tubular choice.

Greg is a co-founder and regular contributor of Nanobot Rock.