dijous, 2 de gener de 2014

HEATHERS. Teenage Clothes 7"


Un poc de guitar pop per acabar les entrades d'avui, des de Los Angeles.


Imagine if Joy Division’s Transmission was hijacked from its gloom, pimped with a rough, jangling riff that knew The Byrds inside out and was driven by a teenage beat that crashed the cymbals into the sound booth.

That’s the slapdash pop-art pop of Teenage Clothes: punk’s energy meeting the broken-hearted crusade of 60s pop. It’s loud and it’s bright and it’s irresistible.

Heathers are probably named after the film, but their skittishness and zest reminds me a little of early Orange Juice (The Heather's On Fire). Even though they’re 3 blokes from LA, I want them – kinda like da Brudders Ramone – to all be called Heather. Anyhow, the b-side I Don’t Wanna Be Adored – more The Stooges’ I Wanna Be Your Dog than The Stone Roses – shows they’ve got a sense of humor.


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