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'Tis the season for blown out and supercharged lo-fi burners and we can't say we mind one bit. Band after band, this eruption of buzzy stumbly hook filled garage-y pop is pretty impossible not to love. Pens are a great addition to the current crop of noise-poppers like Wavves, Dum Dum Girls, Vivian Girls, etc. Luckily they defiantly have their own take on that sound, as the record opens with what sounds like thumb piano before erupting into a full on garage pop anthem. Pens are a London trio who infuse wonderfully swirling psychedelic moments into their Shaggs like crash and burn approach to way-in-the-red and dizzyingly fucked up pop. There is something so spirited and punk rock about their sound and approach, imagine your favorite riot grrrrl band on Woodsist! Bikini Kill mixed with Wavves? You get the idea, a hectic, urgent and way damn pleasing musical ruckus!
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Upon first hearing
London’s Pens one could swear that they were the descendents of the
shit-pop movement born in basements of the Midwest as all of the
distinctive signifiers are firmly intact: the sweet and sour guitar
buzz, the atonal keyboard skronk, imposing caveman percussion and
gleefully shouted team-chants. While in theory that may be true (the
Pens confess a love of bands of that ilk), the trio swears by the
ephemeral musical moments in their teen years as the purest inspiration
for the cacophony they construct. If there’s one thing to learn from
Amelia, Stef and Helen, it’s that their mission is anything but
mundane, pretentious or elitist. When the stark white template of lo-fi
was sent via air mail in a package marked “shambolic,” they took that
message to heart but insisted on splattering the canvas with bright and
vibrant character. It’s not exactly the neon color blast suggested by
the cover of their De Stijl debut, Hey
Friend, What You Doing?, though
tracks like “High in the Cinema” and “Freddie” come across as adorably
motley pop songs. And it’s not exactly dunderheaded punk, though “I
Heart U” and “Hide the Kids” could double as femme-fronted hardcore
from a forgotten era. Somewhere in the middle Pens exist—as fleeting in
cobbling together their sound as the melodies they form are in
cementing themselves to the skull. That conflict leaves one wondering
where these girls have been all this time that the genre has been
gestating. Hiding on the internet? Playing pub enthusiasts with
similar-minded punters in the U.K like Graffiti Island, Male Bonding,
and Mazes? Or patiently waiting for the next wave to take them
Stateside? It’s likely none of the above, as they seem too busy in
writing, illustrating, and recording to give much of a care. Isn’t that
how we like our rock stars—wildly indifferent?
~ Kevin J Elliot
Agit
Reader