Friday, July 9, 2010

Notha fuck motreal review

repost from foxydigitals

From what I assume is a less rural area of Canada comes this brashly monikered group. This 7" has 7 songs (one for each inch!) that each average about a minute long. The band sounds cranky and craggy from the getgo; during opener "Alarm Clock", singer Jenna Empey sounds like her alarm clock just woke her up from a nightmare. "France 1954" takes the energy of the first track and channels it into a hotrodding beach-punk cruiser, maybe like a more antsy version of Best Coast. The title track has a bit of a trashy lo-fi version of a bouncy "Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da" vibe, until the singer gets a bit pissed off and starts shrieking. A song with a bit of an Eastern drone flavor called "Pluto" drags the side to an end.

Flip the record over and you get a lovely, scared, sparse ballad called "The Rabbits" which ends after like 40 seconds. Criminal. This is followed by "Beachglass", a longer, drumless song with vocals by a male singer who reminds me of the guy from Geggy Tah (yes, the '90s alt-rock one hit wonder whose singer sounded like Kermit The Frog). The record ends with a curious number called "I Pour Bees On Myself", in which Jenna sings about a bizarre dream over a distorted organ.

At least half a dozen listens in and I'm still not sure what to make of this record. It's very messy, a bit creepy, a little charming, kind of annoying, but definitely curious and unique. The biggest question of all, though: what exactly do they have against Montreal, anyway? 6/10 -- Paul Simpson (16 June, 2010)

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