Sublime will always be a nostalgic band. Few groups are as synonymous with Southern California as the trio whose blend of punk, ska, reggae, and sun-soaked rock helped define an era.

Their first studio album in 30 years, Until the Sun Explodes recaptures much of that original charm. Opening with two immediate standouts, the record feels like a drive along a coastal highway with the windows down. Songs like “Favorite Song (feat. Skeegs)” and the title track practically carry the scent of salt air, delivering the kind of easygoing energy that made the band so beloved in the first place.

To the delight of the “get the white boys back in the garage” crowd online, many of the album’s strongest moments embrace that quintessential garage-band spirit. The instrumentals are punchy and rough around the edges, balancing rawness with intention. There’s an immediacy to these songs that makes them equally suited for passive listening and full-volume singalongs. The band’s trademark mix of punk attitude and laid-back grooves remains intact, even as they revisit a sound that could easily have felt trapped in the past.

Admittedly, the album isn’t always cohesive. Some tracks hit harder than others, shifting between heavier punk influences, breezier reggae passages, and more subdued moments, with a handful of interludes breaking things up along the way. But rather than feeling like a weakness, that variety becomes part of the album’s appeal. Until the Sun Explodes isn’t trying to reinvent Sublime—it’s a reminder of why the band’s laid-back chaos resonated in the first place.

Set up on the beach, crack open a drink—maybe even light a joint—and press play. Sleazeball summer has officially arrived.

Read our interview with Sublime’s Jakob Nowell here.