Three Imaginary Girls

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

Despite such youthful lyrics such as, "He's making shit up now/trying to be your friend," Metal Hearts isn't made of high school kids. In fact, Anar Badalov and Flora Wolpert-Checknoff are well on their way towards adulthood at the ripe ages of eighteen and nineteen years old, respectively. That these two Eastern European descendants have known each other literally since age two is nearly as interesting as how they continued to write songs via email while attending different colleges, ultimately trading in their educations to focus more on their lurid bedroom rock.

And seductively deceptive they are. Like two children who are perfectly sweet and innocent angels in their parent's eyes, they are hiding skeletons in their closets and pornography under their mattresses. Keep a watchful eye on them as they attempt to lull you into a calm sleep all the while whispering in your ears such juicy lyrics as, "You can watch me fester in masturbatory quiet/I swallow a bottle of wine so I can get by it."

Given the taboo innuendos and the synth-drum/lazy guitar-laced songs, you can see why I might be tempted to charge Metal Hearts of sounding like a teenaged Arab Strap. Don't get me wrong, I think it's pretty damn sexy. Apparently, so did Seattle-based music mogul David Dickenson when he came across some of their earlier basement demos and offered this Baltimore duo a recording contract on Suicide Squeeze Records along with an opening gig for Pedro the Lion, proving that the "American dream" is still hobbling along.

In fact, about the only thing I don't love about Metal Hearts is their chosen band name. I mean, c'mon… Metal Hearts?! I don't give a damn if it was named after a Cat Power song from Moon Pix. It just seems that they could have selected a name a little more descriptive of their shtick, perhaps one of those trendy full-sentence names like "I Arise at Dawn With Fire In My Loins."

Just a suggestion.