Labels: self released
Review by: Andy Malcolm
Can a band call themselves that? I guess when they are any good you can call your band what you like.
So this is the antidote, if you find that emo in 2011 does not connect with you for whatever reason. Here are three of those reasons – a: you’re fucking old, b: hype and coloured vinyl, c: bands sound premeditated. I could go on. Anyways. The Whoopass Girls is the sound of emo youth trapped in a basement and coming from Missoula. Search for that place on Google Maps. Man alive. If you come from Missoula you must be emo by default. Nothing for miles other than a massive forest, and Yellowstone National Park. Nearby are places named Upper Rattlesnake, Moose Can Rally and Poison. The music on this demo is scratchy and messy, with off key vocals and utter hopelessness. On the first song, the guy mumbles “I just want to sleep tonight” several times. The songs are ragged and goofy, like the band does not know what else to do other than make this dumb music about girls and fucking up. It sounds like somewhere between Treetops and I Hate Myself. Shit me, listen to the incredible intro on “Three Men and a Comic Book”, I am guessing they have listened to a bit of September.
“I hope next summer that I’m alone, because I don’t want to be in love with anyone”. The lyrics here are so quotable, I could fill this review with lyrics. “This winter seems like it’s going on forever”. I hope they are utterly serious, but that’s the thing these days, emo bands miss the point by being ironic and self aware. HEY EMO BANDS – you are missing the point. Missing the fucking point.
So this shambles of a demo, of sorrow poured out through the means of 3 dudes hanging out and strumming guitars and singing words about lives in the middle of nowhere, recording it on whatever comes to hand. This is exactly what emo should be. It’s not the best music ever. That’s the point. It evokes everything that ever made me want to listen to home made guitar rock made by dorky guys with no airs and graces in the first place. This is music made for a tape deck and you, sitting on the floor of an empty, cold room with a beer and nothing else at all.
If everyone liked this, I’d probably hate it.