T.I.T.S. – S/T
Sorry, no, this isn’t a gratuitous review in any sense of the term. So sorry, we don’t do that kind of thing around here. We respect women as much as we respect the underground. So no T-shirts with the wetness, no butt short shots, no illicit images, not for us! And just so you know, it actually stands for “thugs in trendy style,” so forget it. No hidden meaning, you’ve just got a dirty little mind and you’d probably turn any acronym into perversion. That’s your problem, though, not ours, so work it out on your own time. Because T.I.T.S. is about something else dirty, and that’s dirty-ass punk. Plus, it’s from France. Now, you may be wondering why we’d single that out as a fact to mention. It’s simple, the stereotype of France covers almost everything. Many years ago we were first introduced to French post-hardcore, and it blew us away. So the French are doing some stellar over there, and it just keeps getting better. This is our next foray into the French underground via these noisy punk fanatics, and it’s nice and weird. Real weird. Weird stuff envisioned in a garage full of moldering porn on VHS. Thought we’d toss that one in there for kicks in case you still had a non-acronymal word on your mind.
Available on pink vinyl or in digipak form (check the Bandcamp link above), T.I.T.S. is a rather surprising blend of punk. In fact it’s surprising because how it works for these guys would easily fall apart for practically any other act. It belts out the tunes like Pre without sounding like it’s coming through a kazoo and flashing panties in place of licks, and it most certainly doesn’t fall all over itself while trying to pretend it means more than it does like AIDS Wolf (who broke up not so long ago). T.I.T.S. almost combines elements of both of these acts, just using them as basic reference points here, bare with us. That is to say, we’re not making a comparison to show you our elite knowledge, it’s just that these guys take the energy, craziness, and noise of those two, and they actually do something with it you can listen to. Imagine that! That’s called actual music, write it down for future reference, if you please.
T.I.T.S. doesn’t take any time preparing you for anything. Once you’re in, you’re in for life and only suicide is an exit. Suicide in this case is being used as a not-so-clever symbol for turning off the music. T.I.T.S. play a dirty type of punk infused with so-called noise, but noise here must be understood differently. It’s not noise qua noise, it’s noise as a concept, meaning that the sound isn’t literally chaotic, it merely sounds chaotic when it’s actually constructed in a specific way. You’ll find lots of turbulence, a sound like something recorded hours before cutting the discs, but yet it’s arranged and delivered in such a way it becomes clear the band actually knows what they’re doing. It’s not music for art’s sake like the hipster tripe we mentioned above, never, it’s something that has a groove, something you can smash a few glass bottles to, something you can actually listen to and not be required to explain it to someone else who “just doesn’t get it.” You don’t get it. And the imagery is rather unique in itself, but not so far removed that it becomes esoteric, kind of like the cover art. At first glance, it seems too AbEx to make any sense, but when you give it your attention you say, “ah, finally, this is something I can get into for once.” Lots of awesome, grimy hooks, strange patterns, an awesome vocal delivery that sounds like it’s coming out of a trash compactor, attitude, and biting song titles make this a total win.
Written by Stanley Stepanic
T.I.T.S. – S/T
Teenage Menopause Records
5 / 5
