The Austin Chronicle

https://www.austinchronicle.com/music/1996-01-19/530477/

7 and 7 is

January 19, 1996, Music

Making "indie rock" of late seems to mean recording on four tracks for a major multinational, but that's okay: There will probably always be plenty of local combos willing to work out their middle-class passions in a thoroughly unprofessional manner. The inspiration for Veronica's debut on Candy-Ass may be vaguely riotish, but it's true mother is Scrawl-pop of the catchiest and most disturbing variety. Singer/guitarist Sarah Dougher has the kind of voice that's hard to fake -- raggedy, pissed, and vulnerable in a way that makes you bouncy and slightly ill at the same time -- plus, she writes good lyrics about guard rails and girl lust. Rhythmically, it's all over the place, and the guitar has a Gang-of-Fourish tone that may or may not be appropriate. Meanwhile, the garage genre continues to be held hostage by an up-with-people brain trust on the Teen Titans' newest, "We're Wildcats!" (My Papa's Leg/Peek-a-Boo). Happily for almost everyone, the mostly teeny titans subvert their own leanings toward distorto vocals, basic three-(two-? one-?) chord riffage, and the odd blues "harp" with twisted couplets, maniacal perkiness, and the best song titles in the world ("Flying Cobras of Rock" being but one). Olive's self-titled debut on Framed! Records is more musically complex, and the hook-versus-anti-hook dialectic rages mightily within its slender petrochemical confines. "Flying" invokes Stereolab, Lene Lovich, and various New Zealand pop groups: It's circular, layered, pulsating with Siouxsie march bursts, dreamy, and about a dream. "Weird Facial Hair Boy," on the other hand, is a singalong with funny, accessible lyrics, its `77 fuzztones punctuated by Kerthy Fix's Germanic drama diva vocalizing and enough melody and tempo shifts to keep you playing the record instead of just humming it to yourself. -- Cindy Widner

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