Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

'Tude. The Girls know it. It's what differentiates pop from punk, the have's from the have not's, the XY's from the XX's.

Don't get it? Try this instead: take the awkward new wave of the Cars, add in the confident punk of the Buzzcocks, and then cross them with modern art rock of the Liars. That might help you get a grasp on the Girls sound. Each song on their latest self-titled release boosts the confidences. It's like a mighty, sonic slap on the face, saying "Wake up! Let's go make some noise!"

Still don't get it? The Girls have attitude in spades, my friend. So much that I almost felt invincible as I listened to "She's Hysterical" on my walk to work.* It's a near perfect post-new wave/punk song. The jagged, crunchy guitar chords backing up the lyric, "We make war! We make love! But please get your hands off my ster-e-o! You are, you are, you are, you are, you are, you are, you are, you are . . . uh! oh!" was just the amount of 'hand on the hip-shaking, finger-wagging' fuel to support most any level of civil (or uncivil for that matter) disobedience.

Known for their alleged lap dances as much as their well-documented, ferocious live sets in animal print G-strings, The Girls are have made a name for themselves in Seattle's music scene. Dirtnap Records must be pleased as punch to have such a propulsive act on their roster. The Girls are cock-rock with a glammed-out synth/punk rock flair.

*Ok, ok! So it's not really that dangerous walking down Pine St. to work downtown, save for that moderately aggressive homeless guy hanging at the Melrose and Pine bus stop. But seriously, my confidence WAS boosted. This shit IS virile!!