We Are Nots
They are Nots. They are four chicks from Memphis who embody all of the weird, psychedelic, garage punk smashing up that makes bands like them too bizarro to fall under any one umbrella. Their debut, We Are Nots is an unrelenting outbreak of angry vocals, controlled noise, and melodies disguised as chaos. The squealing guitar feedback, the frantic cymbal smacks, the naive stabs on the synthesizer, and the dark and moody bass lines that surround the aggressively shouted vocals shouldn’t come together in a such an accessible and hummable manner, yet they somehow do.
“Static,” with it’s Breeders-esque bass intro is a pop song that’s been swallowed up, gnawed on and regurgitated as something much more interesting. “Televangelist” has a bit of a surf guitar riff that dances with the drums and bass that sounds like Pixies’ “Monkey Gone to Heaven” on acid. Of course there is the obvious Riot Grrrl influence, but only in the vocal approach. The gang screams, the bloody rage — it will call to mind early Sleater Kinney, Bratmobile, and the queen herself, Kathleen Hanna. Still, I wouldn’t package them as Riot Grrrl, only Riot Grrrl adjacent.
What Nots are is a band that can assault your ears with tripped out noise while simultaneously appealing to that part of your brain that really needs a melody to hook in to.