Review Summary: One of the most “anyone can start a band” bands I have ever heard. In the most best and congratulatory
way possible.
“I was a lone wolf!”
The first sentence yelped from the mouth of vocalist Clementine Creevy on
Apocalipstick is a full-throated declaration. Something familiar and universal. Everyone feels moments of isolation and lonesomeness. It’s all part of the human experience. So this feeling is legitimately genuine... and there is some vigor and goddamn weight behind all that sass.
“I thought I lost my pack” Creevy continues to moan over a desolate guitar and plodding beat. However, behind this sparse guitar and behind this bare bones beat, is a deep groove. A sort of skipping hop with a bubbling low end. Over this are beautifully textured and layered vocals. After they establish the rhythm, drummer Tabor Allen and keyboard player Sasami Ashworth settle into a comfortable verse-chorus structure. Right on queue Creevy low-key busts out a guitar solo that hums along with the groove nonchalantly. It’s very unassuming at first but it starts hypnotically pulling you down and the hairs on your arm suddenly begin to erect towards the ceiling. Chills start to hover around the surface of your skin while the atmosphere intensifies with the chord progression. The environment ripens as the groove develops deeper and deeper and the feeling begins to darken.
Just when you begin to think the song will trail off the band suddenly breaks into a full on rampage as they tear through guitar chords and falsetto vocals. Bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum-bap-bum. They destroy all control and their previously assumed tame aura as Creevy and co. destroy four chords with blistering ferociousness. A true crescendo until the band drops on a dime as two massive chords strike with crashing cymbals and six-stringed chaos. A small moment of silence finally washes over your consciousness as the band ceases for a second.
And that’s just the first song.
I remember reading another review of this album that went something like: “Apocalipstick could be described in the same way comic book is described as: ‘Trash People’ comes in with a POW ! ‘Moon Dust’ sneaks behind with a WHAM!” But I wouldn’t take it so far. Although there is a sort of playful childishness to this band they aren’t necessarily silly. They aren’t a “mature” band but ***, the singer was 18 when she wrote the lyrics. They portray what is probably an accurate look into what it’s like being a weird feminist teenager who plays music in the mid to late 2010’s.
The songs are so action-packed, so melodious, so rhythmically tight, and so well-written it is hard to believe they are so young. Songs like “Trash People” are dance-y enough to keep you moving but some of the guitar can trippy as hell. Other times it can be heavy. The tones are delicious at times with sweet little psychedelic twinkles and at other times distorted and disgusting.
The slow parts come when they need to and the speedy parts do too. It is all so well-constructed it’s surprising that
Apocalipstickiis so fun to listen to at all. There is almost a robotic quality in the way these songs kick your ass. But it is fun and enjoyable throughout its very dense seriousness. It’s like sitting at the end of a bar alone, and having a real intense stare down with some mean sonofabitch at the other end. Then this mother***er just winks at the last second and orders some fruity ass cocktail.
“Humble Pro” is a silly song about eating food with your roommates. But then the very next song “Nuclear Bomb” is arguably the most serious sincerely emotional song on the record. The record flows well though and these contrasts don’t make it seem scatter-brained but rather well-rounded and complete.
What is so crazy is the amount of sheer ***ing hits this record packs within its ten tracks. Pound for pound this thing weighs a ton. Lesser bands can’t ring a rag out with this many golden tracks over the span of a decade, let alone an album.
Apocalipstick is an album that does not let up. Track by track, blazing by in a fit of melodious feminine rage with a strut to it. This album knows it’s dirty. This album knows that it’s pretty. This album knows that’s it’s ugly. Most of all though, this album has the confidence and awareness to know that it’s goddamn great.
