Teen Idols
Pucker Up!
[Honest Don's]
Rating: 6.7
Well, from the band's namesake alone, we already know what to expect: a
King Crimson-soundalike or, possibly, a barely-audible slowcore outfit
modeled after Low or Mojave 3, perhaps? Yeah, right. The Idols are young,
attitudinal Nashville greaseballs that grab us by the belt loops and shake
our emo-deadened asses up-- in the attempt to convince everybody that not
all Nashvillians are Power For Living types that vacation in Branson,
Missouri and think Ray Stevens is a real hoot.
Upon first listen, they remind me of an uptempo, less world-weary Social
Distortion-- you know, if Mike Ness and Co. had turned to coffee and Jolt
cola instead of self-pity, smack, and booze. But I think a Ramones influence
wins out here, as the guitarist, Phillip, reels off those lightning-quick
Johnny Ramone chord changes like he was born to do it. And he even takes a
few rare solos that aren't all that embarrassing.
The band also boasts that undeniable Arthur Fonzarelli fashion sense: the
studded black leather over the white t-shirts. They've got the greased-back
duck-tail hair-sculpting thing going on, the cigarette behind the
ear, the requisite array of arrow- through- the- heart tattoos, and cartoon
characters. Oh, and for all you truck-stop chauvinists out there, get a
load of the chick bass player-- the busty stereotypical blond with the
pouty lips, tight t-shirt and painted-on patent leather pants. Looks like
she might enjoy bouncing around a lot on stage.
The Teen Idols' approach to songwriting is every bit as obvious as their
image and band moniker would suggest. So I'll mercifully spare you any
unnecessary bullshit analysis. As predictable and intentionally
unoriginal as this punk-pop with a bubblegum center is, maybe I can
still direct you to a few "standout" tracks. Take the title cut, for
starters; it's a feisty little kiss-off to two-faced brown-nosers.
And "Insanity Plea" is powered by the Idols' characteristic muscle-chord
strength and bruising bass drum kick. Then you've got the fast 'n' furious
(and especially comical) ditties about the Information Age's mechanically-dependent
robo-children, "Virtual Loser" and "Test Tube Teens." One of the things that sets
the Idols apart from your average
testosterone-fueled grease-rock outfit is a much-needed dose of
estrogen in the vocals-- big-boned, velvet-throated bassist Heather
combines with the fellas for some of the strongest guy/gal harmonizing
around.
Unfortunately, Pucker Up, with its one-dimensional slant on punk,
is capable of yielding too much of a good thing. Some of these three-chord,
pedal- to- the- metal stomps have plenty of acceleration, but lack that key
melodic line or hook that really burns rubber in the subconscious. And I'm
not sure why so many bands, Teen Idols included, get a such a chuckle out
of tacking on pointless filler towards the end of a particular disc.
Here they include silly-ass studio bloopers and other moronic chatter
during the final ten or so minutes of the album. I guess it must be some
desperate need to communicate just how freaky, spontaneous and fun being
stoned in a recording studio can be.
The Teen Idols have enough up-yours attitude and sense of fun to be, I
would imagine, a truly great live band. And now that the old guard of punks
like Social Distortion and the Ramones have aged and petered out, and
young fogies like Green Day have become self-righteous acoustic-plucking
auteurs, we could certainly do worse than a little Teen Idolatry.
-Michael Sandlin