Album Review: Terry Malts - Killing Time
Exciting, killer Ramones style punk pop to fall in love with
By Carrie Quartly
San Francisco's Terry Malts emerged from the indefinite hiatus of literate Smiths acolytes Magic Bullets as a "drunken experiment". After years of over-thinking things, they have traded in their clean, jangly guitars for a scuzzy buzzsaw sound recalling The Ramones and Psychocandy era Jesus & Mary Chain.
While there seems to be an almost deliberate transparency regarding their influences, in this age of familiarity, with the hypnagogic pop phenomenon spreading like wildfire through the American underground, it has become boring to focus on who each band sounds like, and is far better to concentrate on the actual songs being written.
In the Slumberland label's tradition of dark and dreamy noisescapes (Dum Dum Girls, Crystal Stilts, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart), Terry Malts fit in exceptionally well, banging out a memorable lo-fi racket with the perfect dose of melody and punchy rhythms.
The record blasts off with the bouncy "Something About You", all glorious ringing guitar and a propulsive drum beat over vocalist Phil Benson's likeable Joey Ramone-esque crooning. It's possibly a knowing tribute to The Ramones and their lanky frontman, as the lyrics even compare the effects of infatuation to getting your head fucked up like "sniffin' glue".
After a few seconds of protracted feedback, they're back with "Not Far From It", which starts with a female voice sample declaring, "I'm so desperate for some fun!", which aptly sums up the group's party ethic. Chugging along in the same brisk 2 minute fashion with squealing repetitive riffs and lamentations on why we don't just do what we want with our lives...
Next is "Where Is the Weekend?", a no-nonsense, frantically paced blue-collar punk anthem, pining for an antidote to the tedium of the working week.
This is followed by the spine tingling "Tumble Down", opening on a bristly, throbbing bassline that melts in a a candy-coated dirge of swooning guitars. The romantic, adolescent earnestness of the simple, undressed lyrics float in and dance in swirling, dreamy echoes.
The atheist statement "No Sir, I'm Not a Christian" flies in on a Mary Chain squall of feedback, and it seems at times the continued use of this device between songs slackens the album's pace a little, but it is a minor quibble. "No Sir" is an ear splitting 90 seconds of ingeniously catchy anti-religious indictment, and with it's relentless groove and spitfire sass, surely one of the album's highlights.
"Waiting Room", another hymn to boredom and uncertainty in love that manages not to feel angsty, builds on a lone guitar chime and a Buzzcocks "Pulsebeat" drum pattern as Benson warbles "In the waiting room/It doesn't look so good/Well I don't want to be a hobby/so if you want me you know where I'll be."
On "I'm Neurotic", a steady Jaki Liebezeit metronome percussion style carries the track as it explodes in a flurry of cymbal crash whollops and blissed out distorted guitars that climax with an oozing, fucked up "California Girls" sample.
With "Nauseous", Terry Malts have penned an archetypal punk tune, an off-colour three chord love song with the great sing-along chorus of "Your love makes me nauseous, na-na-na-nah-nauseous".
"Mall Dreams" is a token anti-consumerist jibe, attacking the brand mentality and our lust for 'stuff', showing off the band's cynical, sneering yet playful and funny lyrics - "A zombie is still a zombie in J. Crew".
"No Good For You" showcases the group's ear for splendid upbeat bubblegum, with steady fuzzed-up guitar bursts beneath an utterly brilliant vocal harmony.
"I Do" is another tough love barbed-wire tale filled with razor sharp hooks and crashing percussion like an adrenaline injection, while "What Was It?" is a pummeling pop nugget laced with scratchy guitar work and a driving bump-bump drum beat.
Negative Approach cover "Can't Tell No One" doesn't sound as punishing as the original, but expertly picks up on the song's revved up pop potential, and, like the other tracks, is over almost as soon as it begins.
"No Big Deal" winds the album down in slow melancholy wails of feedback as Benson sings with a messy frankness, "No big deal/That was just my heart you ripped out", with a great call and respond vocal chorus and a smoldering guitar solo that drifts off into more Psychocandy style feedback.
True to the band's aim to "get to their inner Trogg", the subject matter is rarely weighty, mainly taking on girl trouble, unrequited love, waiting for the weekend, and boredom.
Terry Malts use a time honoured pop formula, but rarely has a new band crammed such sheer excitement and joy into a mere 34 minute listening experience. Each of the songs scrape in at just over 2 minutes long, but they capture a wonderful youthful exuberance, and each euphoric blast is like a high BPM caffeine kick that never outstays it's welcome.
There is a charisma and a winning charm to their succinct and sincere output that is hard to resist, so just let go and get hooked!
Saturday 25 February 2012
Thursday 9 February 2012
Live Review: Dum Dum Girls at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, 7 Feb 2012
Dum Dum Girls at The Music Hall of Williamsburg, 7th Feb 2012
(with Punks on Mars and Widowspeak)
by Carrie Quartly
The Dum Dum Girls are a fuzz pop quartet from sunny California, named after both Iggy Pop's "Dum Dum Boys" as well as The Vaselines Dum Dum album. To give further clues as to where their musical loyalties lie, lead vocalist and songwriter Kristen Gundred goes by the stage name Dee Dee Penny. They are also infatuated with the 60's, and they wear the dark Cleopatra eye makeup of the Ronettes, the coordinated outfits and matching fringes of the Shangri-La's. They may have a hankering for the past, but they are far from just another retro pop act, with a determined focus on progression and exploring new directions, putting enormous energies into carving out their own identity as gifted songwriters.
Their latest album Only In Dreams already shows a dramatic shift in the band's aesthetic, Dee Dee's heavily reverbed hazy purr and the group's velvety, echo saturated drone traded in for pristinely produced sugar coated harmonies, everything crystal clear and buffed to an immaculate shine. The garage-y clatter and youthful emotions of first album I will Be are discarded for assured performances and mature lyrical themes of sadness and loss (Dee Dee's mother died of brain cancer in late 2010, and her portrait adorns both album sleeves in tribute).
Their critics might say this new found clarity exposes a band restricted by simple song structures, relying on derivative catchy choruses without any real identifiable hooks. While it took me a while to warm to Only In Dreams, I soon grew to enjoy the twangy surf guitar licks, the swaggering, expressive vibrato of Dee Dee's vocals, no longer self-conscious and buried under a sludgy wall of noise. Most striking about the record is the deeply heartfelt and painfully earnest lyrics, with Dee Dee singing about losing her mother. On the moving "Hold Your Hand" she croons "From dreams you wake to shock to find it's true/And you'd do anything to bring her back". Rarely has that level of wrenching honesty been put forth in such a sweet pop song, and I hope the record has been a cathartic experience for Dee Dee to cope with her grief.
Tonight in Brooklyn, New York, on the first big night of the tour, they have traded in some of the vintage black for a monochromatic wardrobe scheme, the girls sporting short white dresses over their traditional patterned tights - puff sleeve lacy numbers cinched in with black waist belts, and a flowing draped dress top for Dee Dee that whirls and whooshes around her, Marilyn starlet style.
Tall redheaded bassist Bambi's recent departure (played her last show with the band in Auckland, New Zealand in early January as she is off to write a TV show) ushered in the live debut of new recruit Malia James of Marnie Stern and The Black Ryder fame. She certainly does nothing to hurt the band's image with her coolly aloof posturing and model good looks, and she competently filled the gap without a real noticeable disruption of the band dynamic. Perhaps in time she will grow into her role even more.
They opened the show with the grinding guitar squall of "He Gets Me High", an ideal opener, it's rough, lumbering rhythm offset by the sweet gauzy shine of the girl's vocal harmonies. Then they propel into early single "Catholicked", about breaking away from a religious upbringing. Fast, echo-drenched dreamy guitars recalling The Jesus and Mary Chain, with a punky rapid fire vocal that even sneaks in a Patti Smith lyric.
From there they revisit the title track of 2010's I Will Be, Sandy's thump-thump drumming like a train chugging along the tracks and Dee Dee's face twisted with the effort of the emotive vocal refrain.
Next is the slow, smouldering "Rest of Our Lives", a beautiful swaying love ballad written in Dee Dee's youth and infused with real burning adolescent passion, "Your eyes can see me, they always have, before you knew me, I dreamt of them..."
They follow up with "Hold Your Hand" from Only In Dreams, the wavering trill of Dee Dee's voice here resembling Chrissie Hynde or Grace Slick but with a more nuanced sadness and sensitivity as she sings about being by her mother's bedside during her final moments.
The pace is tightened again by delinquent anthem and crowd favourite "Bhang Bhang, I'm a Burnout", dedicated to Dee Dee's niece on her 20th birthday as she's "Almost old enough to be a burn out." The momentum is driven forward by the racing heart beats of Sandy's drums, while a sinuous guitar line from Jules weaves in and out over an infectiously joyful 60's girl group sing-song harmony, no wonder the audience are now at their most animated.
The interaction is brief, a smile and a quick thanks before moving onto "Heartbeat (Take It Away)", a featherweight sugary tune injected with c86 guitar jangle and hand-clap style percussion. What you notice most is Dee Dee's bewitching, soulful voice - no longer the icy, detached persona, standing stock still and static from stage fright. There is a confidence and a warmth to her performance, and it seems like now she is willing to embrace being a frontwoman, the Only In Dreams material allowing her to showcase her surprisingly sophisticated vocal range, and these live renditions give the album tracks new depths that were perhaps lost among all the gloss and glamour of their official recording's ruthlessly perfect production.
The crowd is then treated to a new song, "I Got Nothing", and then "a very old song" , I Will Be's "Jail La La", a playful sing along about an uneasy stint in the slammer next to a woman "covered in shit and high as a kite".
They then storm into the churning psychedelia of "Lavender Haze" before unleashing the uber catchy, surf riff laden "Bedroom Eyes" and leaving the stage. Moments later they return for an encore, appropriately winding things down with the exquisite ballad "Coming Down", Dee Dee's expression intense as she belts out a soaring "There I goooooooooooooooo...." at the end of the bridge.
Being on the far right of the stage was a disadvantage as the sound was murkier and the harmonies not as easily picked up on beneath the loud, domineering bass, but Dum Dum Girls are a very professional unit, they play well and they look the part. If they suffer at all from a lack of variation and some tunes blurring into one another it is because they play to their strengths, and when they're good they're masters at tapping into our pop pleasure centers, and they can only get better.
(with Punks on Mars and Widowspeak)
by Carrie Quartly
The Dum Dum Girls are a fuzz pop quartet from sunny California, named after both Iggy Pop's "Dum Dum Boys" as well as The Vaselines Dum Dum album. To give further clues as to where their musical loyalties lie, lead vocalist and songwriter Kristen Gundred goes by the stage name Dee Dee Penny. They are also infatuated with the 60's, and they wear the dark Cleopatra eye makeup of the Ronettes, the coordinated outfits and matching fringes of the Shangri-La's. They may have a hankering for the past, but they are far from just another retro pop act, with a determined focus on progression and exploring new directions, putting enormous energies into carving out their own identity as gifted songwriters.
Their latest album Only In Dreams already shows a dramatic shift in the band's aesthetic, Dee Dee's heavily reverbed hazy purr and the group's velvety, echo saturated drone traded in for pristinely produced sugar coated harmonies, everything crystal clear and buffed to an immaculate shine. The garage-y clatter and youthful emotions of first album I will Be are discarded for assured performances and mature lyrical themes of sadness and loss (Dee Dee's mother died of brain cancer in late 2010, and her portrait adorns both album sleeves in tribute).
Their critics might say this new found clarity exposes a band restricted by simple song structures, relying on derivative catchy choruses without any real identifiable hooks. While it took me a while to warm to Only In Dreams, I soon grew to enjoy the twangy surf guitar licks, the swaggering, expressive vibrato of Dee Dee's vocals, no longer self-conscious and buried under a sludgy wall of noise. Most striking about the record is the deeply heartfelt and painfully earnest lyrics, with Dee Dee singing about losing her mother. On the moving "Hold Your Hand" she croons "From dreams you wake to shock to find it's true/And you'd do anything to bring her back". Rarely has that level of wrenching honesty been put forth in such a sweet pop song, and I hope the record has been a cathartic experience for Dee Dee to cope with her grief.
Tonight in Brooklyn, New York, on the first big night of the tour, they have traded in some of the vintage black for a monochromatic wardrobe scheme, the girls sporting short white dresses over their traditional patterned tights - puff sleeve lacy numbers cinched in with black waist belts, and a flowing draped dress top for Dee Dee that whirls and whooshes around her, Marilyn starlet style.
Tall redheaded bassist Bambi's recent departure (played her last show with the band in Auckland, New Zealand in early January as she is off to write a TV show) ushered in the live debut of new recruit Malia James of Marnie Stern and The Black Ryder fame. She certainly does nothing to hurt the band's image with her coolly aloof posturing and model good looks, and she competently filled the gap without a real noticeable disruption of the band dynamic. Perhaps in time she will grow into her role even more.
They opened the show with the grinding guitar squall of "He Gets Me High", an ideal opener, it's rough, lumbering rhythm offset by the sweet gauzy shine of the girl's vocal harmonies. Then they propel into early single "Catholicked", about breaking away from a religious upbringing. Fast, echo-drenched dreamy guitars recalling The Jesus and Mary Chain, with a punky rapid fire vocal that even sneaks in a Patti Smith lyric.
From there they revisit the title track of 2010's I Will Be, Sandy's thump-thump drumming like a train chugging along the tracks and Dee Dee's face twisted with the effort of the emotive vocal refrain.
Next is the slow, smouldering "Rest of Our Lives", a beautiful swaying love ballad written in Dee Dee's youth and infused with real burning adolescent passion, "Your eyes can see me, they always have, before you knew me, I dreamt of them..."
They follow up with "Hold Your Hand" from Only In Dreams, the wavering trill of Dee Dee's voice here resembling Chrissie Hynde or Grace Slick but with a more nuanced sadness and sensitivity as she sings about being by her mother's bedside during her final moments.
The pace is tightened again by delinquent anthem and crowd favourite "Bhang Bhang, I'm a Burnout", dedicated to Dee Dee's niece on her 20th birthday as she's "Almost old enough to be a burn out." The momentum is driven forward by the racing heart beats of Sandy's drums, while a sinuous guitar line from Jules weaves in and out over an infectiously joyful 60's girl group sing-song harmony, no wonder the audience are now at their most animated.
The interaction is brief, a smile and a quick thanks before moving onto "Heartbeat (Take It Away)", a featherweight sugary tune injected with c86 guitar jangle and hand-clap style percussion. What you notice most is Dee Dee's bewitching, soulful voice - no longer the icy, detached persona, standing stock still and static from stage fright. There is a confidence and a warmth to her performance, and it seems like now she is willing to embrace being a frontwoman, the Only In Dreams material allowing her to showcase her surprisingly sophisticated vocal range, and these live renditions give the album tracks new depths that were perhaps lost among all the gloss and glamour of their official recording's ruthlessly perfect production.
The crowd is then treated to a new song, "I Got Nothing", and then "a very old song" , I Will Be's "Jail La La", a playful sing along about an uneasy stint in the slammer next to a woman "covered in shit and high as a kite".
They then storm into the churning psychedelia of "Lavender Haze" before unleashing the uber catchy, surf riff laden "Bedroom Eyes" and leaving the stage. Moments later they return for an encore, appropriately winding things down with the exquisite ballad "Coming Down", Dee Dee's expression intense as she belts out a soaring "There I goooooooooooooooo...." at the end of the bridge.
Being on the far right of the stage was a disadvantage as the sound was murkier and the harmonies not as easily picked up on beneath the loud, domineering bass, but Dum Dum Girls are a very professional unit, they play well and they look the part. If they suffer at all from a lack of variation and some tunes blurring into one another it is because they play to their strengths, and when they're good they're masters at tapping into our pop pleasure centers, and they can only get better.
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