Over the years, on my work performance reviews or even in conversations with co-workers and other people who may not really know me that well, I've gotten the same comment over and over again: "You're so calm. Nothing ever seems to bother you." I'm mystified by this. My family and closest friends would probably be mystified by this as well. While I may present a calm and collected exterior to the outside world, I often feel like my insides are one big ball of nervous energy and, sometimes, even rage. That feeling has only grown as I've gotten older.
That probably explains my growing attraction to noisier, messier music. I still love a lyrically dense, interesting, jangly indie-pop song. Those songs satisfy my mind. They can make me laugh, tear up, or nod my head with recognition. But, lately, I've found that there's just something great about getting punched in the gut once in a while.
On their debut full-length, Say Yes To Love, Syracuse noise punk five-piece, Perfect Pussy, deliver a 23-minute gut punch (Well, maybe not quite a full 23 minutes, but we'll get to that.) that, every time it ends, has me pressing play for just one more shot. The record opens with tape hiss, followed by the jackhammer ice pick of Ray McAndrew's guitar on "Driver." Singer / lyricist Meredith Graves comes in, her talk / shout singing heavily distorted and barely discernible above the storm generated by the rest of the band.
Perfect Pussy follow that template through the record's first four songs. There are snippets of lyrics that come through clearly: "I have a history of surrender!" "...everything I want before I die." "I can be strong and I can be kind and I can be good to myself..." "I know where I stand." But Graves's voice is more like another instrument in the torrent of noise.
Say Yes To Love's fifth track, "Interference Fits," is the standout. It throws a pretty guitar riff into the mix and recalls Sonic Youth. Again, only fragments of the lyrics are intelligible: "It was amazing, and I almost cried." "Since when did we say yes to love?" The song trails off into something that sounds like tinnitus and flows into "Dig," which -- along with the first incendiary minute and a half of "Advance Upon The Real" -- constitutes one of the record's last two proper songs.
The last three and a half minutes of "Advance Upon The Real" are a respite, just tape hiss or some other white noise. Album-closer "Vii" layers synths, some Graves spoken word, and maybe a jet engine on top of that white noise. For a moment, it's an ear-splitting radio broadcast from somewhere whose signal we eventually lose.
I read something recently lamenting the fact that a great deal of current music writing ignores lyrics, even going so far as to give a pass to terrible ones. I've been guilty of that, I guess. Say Yes To Love is an example, though, of how lyrics are just one part of the overall emotion conveyed by a song. Graves gives away just enough of her words to provide some context, while the band's ferocity lets you know that whatever she's saying isn't coming easily.
It's healthy to get that stuff out, though -- whether you're an artist pouring it out into your own music or a listener having it pulled out of you in album-sized chunks.
Say Yes To Love comes out on March 18th via Captured Tracks.
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