![]() The cavernously echoing backdrop is just as crucial to the song’s visceral impact, but Anderson keeps coming, chanting, spitting, begging, carrying a gun, etc. Joe Queer, was a fisherman from New Hampshire who worshipped the Ramones, and this was his own dyspeptic version of “California Sun.” He opines, “I don’t know why I’m living this way/Must have Coppertone on my brain,” subsequently advises the state that it’s time to “wake up or die,” then pisses off entirely to go and see, yes, the Ramones.Ī ferocious young hardcore band currently residing in Long Beach, the Brats are led by unfadeable singer Jenny Angelillo, who sums up her philosophy like this: “I just want to play punk rock, drink coffee, get a tan, do push-ups and get rad … You can fucking quote me on that.”Ĭalifornia’s greatest pop band of the past 30-plus years with guitarist Charlotte Caffey’s toughest sneer and singer Belinda Carlisle’s most glorious hair-flip, taunting us jadedly and making us like it: “This town is our town/It is so glamorous/Bet you’d live here if you could and be one of us.”īlunt, theatrical, bitterly bemused, Erika Anderson delivers a spoken-word manifesto that possesses more apocalyptic power than any death-metal rant. ![]()
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