The Minutemen once named an album Buzz or Howl Under the Influence of Heat. That could easily be a capsule review of the sophomore effort from the Nots. There’s nothing superficial about Cosmetic. It’s a slab of raw estrogen throbbing out from the crossroads. Natalie Hoffmann’s chicken scratch guitar lacerates like a zombie rockabilly cat. Charlotte Watson pounds her kit with a Moe Tucker minimalist throb. Developing on the example of early Pere Ubu, Alexandra Eastburn’s weird synth textures weave the whole chaotic mess together.
The Nots play primal art punk from the Memphis heartland. In their river port town, these women turn libido and frustration that’s been simmering for too long in the summer sun into a sonic kick in the head. Play Cosmetic loud enough and it might just melt your mascara.