At first listen Perfect Pussy’s debut LP sounds like an all-out hardcore punk assault – and that’s essentially what it is – but it’s also the co-mingling of a bunch of individual flavours.
Frontwoman Meredith Graves is perhaps the upstate New York band’s most distinguishing feature. Her vocals are mixed evenly with the pounding instrumentation, but they’re anything but indistinct. She screams at rapid pace, giving a Kim Gordon-like impression of disaffection. Just like Kim Gordon, she’s sure-as-shit fighting for something. Graves’ lyrics are rooted in personal relationships, conveying awareness of her own vulnerability, but not afraid to admit to inflicting damaging harm.
Meanwhile, as the guitar/bass/drums section thrusts unrelentingly, there’s one deviant guitar more interested in MBV-like throbbing feedback. This adds emotionally chilling drapery to the pell-mell foundations. The adventuring guitar work comes to the forefront on the record’s final two tracks. The first of these, Advance Upon the Real, is the song most likely to induce delirium. However, it then devolves into three-and-half minutes of tinkering guitar noise, which allows you search through the rubble of your fractured mental state.
Next comes VII (the record’s 8 track); a five-minute exhibit of that horrible noise heard when a guitar lead’s broken, accompanied by on-a-bad-trip grabs of spoken word.
The record doesn’t outstay its welcome, clocking in at just 23 minutes. It’s all utterly exciting, but it shouldn’t endure any further. You’re left feeling both physically and mentally confused, and that means it’s time for action.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Best Track: Interference Fits
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In A Word: Psychotherapy
