Growling vocals, heavy bass, and the kind of Southern character I didn't expect to find in this genre. Definitely not usually what I listen to but the opening line "I really hate your face" piqued my interest
Every once in a while, a record comes along that makes you rethink the possibilities of sound. This is one such record. Seriously, this record has better production than some of the stuff on the Billboard 100.
Lilting, canary-like vocals and simple guitar playing carries quality lyrics. Is Connie still out there somewhere, under another name perhaps, reveling in her new-found fame? I hope so. She deserves it.
Bizarre, enthralling, and poignant all the same. What does it mean to have a lot of Robert Johnson in your soul? Why should I call you ocean head? I don't know, but I'll keep listening until (or even if I never) find out.
This anthem for the disaffected and transgressive woman rocks, channeling energy and lyrics into the soundscape of garage rock. That chorus about bored sex in the back of a car rings so funny and so, so sad.