Baabes – “Three Last Releases”
Baabes are not a punk band.
Baabes are not a garage band.
Baabes are not a proto-punk band.
Nor are they a rock’n’roll or glam band either.
But let me rephrase this, let me think this over, once more over again.
Baabes are a great fucking punk band!
Baabes are a great fucking garage band!
Also, a GREAT FUCKING, GREAT PROTO-PUNK, ROCK’N’ROLL, GLAM BAND AS WELL!
You see, the trick is on we- because to pigeonhole this band into any one of those splendid genres would be a mistake. But to say they encapsulate (Oh, how fancy a word!) every style that shines brightly through in their, maybe not original, but certainly unique style, would be much more like it.
As some writer once described their music- “It’s like as if a thousand blue nightingales descended upon you lying in a peaceful meadow, cooing gentle whispers upon you as you rest, before then proceeding to gouge your eyes out with their beaks, while at the same time, screaming decimating musical bliss into your ears.”
And while I’m sure the writer of such words is mentally unbalanced and possibly suffering from alcohol abuse. I fully embrace what this unstable individual is trying to relate, much as I do support those pesky nightingales.
The Baabes songs are full of anger, frustration, anti-social, obnoxious behavior coupled with belligerent, boisterous ways.
Their music knocks over tables, creates scenes and causes bartenders to suggest, perhaps they move their party elsewhere.
Their music is also full of fun and wild freedom, like the source of any ecstatic joy.
So I admit I was wrong in telling you what they might not be. But I was fully correct with a couple of adjectives.
This is a great fucking band!
Beginning with a barrage of abrasive guitar chords, “High Demand Trash” tosses in some of the finest, in your face, high-pitched emphatic vocals you’ll ever hear, where each line starts with the words, “I don’t give a fuck about your…” While the energy burns and the excitement glows as the neurons of your brain are ignited.
As all I’m really hearing in my head is, “I don’t give a fuck about anything but this perfect song!”
While four chords blast away and the rhythm rocks riotously, like a roller coaster ride careening off the rails, the vocals emit the phrase, “You’re goddamn right,” several times.
This song rips and rocks and punks and thrashes and rips your heart out stuffing it down your throat with such abandoned glee, that while you’re losing control of all your bodily functions and movements of your limbs. You can’t help but notice your skeletal corpse skipping wildly across the hills in the moonlight on a high you never thought imaginable.
And you’re goddamn right!
Because I don’t give a fuck if you think there’s many songs better than this one, because their isn’t.
And I’m goddamn right!
“Bad Machine” busts out with some grungy, garage guitar chords that would fit nicely in an early Dolls or Stones number. The production has ferociously, overblown guitars coupled with a rollickin’, rockin’
rhythm section and gritty but petulant vocals that push, coerce and preen.
“I’ve been running with a bad machine. She’s the fastest little girl on the scene.”
This song is a like a vehicle taking treacherous turns that, though frightening, are so much more invigorating, you see-
For even if the outcome is fatality or arrest you still figure the ride’s been well worth it.
Much like this song that takes your ears on this dangerously ecstatic ride.
After some pounding snare hits that might sound like nails being driven into your skull, that is if you have a hangover. But more likely, like blood pumping hard into your heart to keep you alive, or at least, give you the false impression that you’re still living-
“Pretty Mugshot” slams out at you like a light featherweight boxer forgoing any polite jabs and clenches- just going clearly in for the kill.
“I don’t need the history of what you’ve done. I don’t need to know when we cross the line.”
This song is like moments before a rash decision is made and wild, oblivious activity is partaken in- along with a majestically, melodic chorus to boot!
This song is a desperate, delirious descent into destructive forces that you somehow survive into a salvation burning bright with energy, truth and soul.
But believe me- this song sounds a whole lot better than I, or anyone else, could describe.
Wow-eee! When I listen to the Baabes music I feel my head is being ripped apart by a thousand blue nightingales flying out of my skull and I don’t think I have to explain to you what they’re all about!
But if “Raw Power” by Iggy & The Stooges and The New York Dolls, two albums, had actually been “hits” and both bands were able to keep their excesses in tow and produce more music- I imagine it would’ve sounded a lot like what this band creates. And you can’t really receive much higher praise, at least, from my view. (Which, of course, is usually passed out below the bar).
So yes! This is my favorite band.
And if you happen to notice me with my hair on fire, doing pirouettes suspended, upside down upon the ceiling while yodeling in French-
No need to call the paramedics, or alert the authorities, or even remember me in your prayers.
Just say in your mind-
“Oh, he’s just probably listening to the new Baabes releases again. I’m pretty sure he’s doing fine.”
And you’re goddamn right!
(Slimedog)
