Last night I walked over to the smoky art den Death by Audio to check out the Vivian Girls, the much-blogged-about and much-loved NYC trio who’s singles I’ve been a little obsessed with the past few months. With spooky, echoing girl harmonies, meaty basslines and simple, driving backbeats, they’ve definitely got the whole low-fi pop-punk thing working in their favor.
Comparisons are all over the map, from bands like Black Tambourine and the Vaselines (pretty apt) to the Shangri-Las and JAMC (stretches I think). To me they’re like a stripped down, lazier version of a more mature band like Electrelane or even the Breeders, which may offend the die-hard Deal fans out there, but oh well. Bottom line is that no current act is doing what the Vivian Girls are doing. The warm, noisy sound wave the ladies rolled out more than lived up to the hype and would soak out the stiffest of cynics.
Vivian Girls: Tell the World
Electrelane: On Parade
Before the good stuff began, we had to bear witness to the painful rap-prance posturing of Hawnay Troof, the spazzy by-product of way too many alternative art classes. Imagine if Dan Deacon, Beck, Har Mar Superstar and the Beastie Boys took a bunch of methamphetamines and had sex with JD Samson. Orgy-style. The resulting spawn would be Hawnay Troof. And the kids were loving him.
But don’t take my word for it when there’s video:
Big Head, Tiny Hands 