From the
You're Commuting
All Over Me
papers,
You're Commuting
All Over Me
papers,
Wednesday 5/16/12:
I suppose my fellow traffic choked southbound Van Wyck travelers are also cursing the reek of civilization's doom, as rightly they should. We all have places to be, but here we is. Stuck! At best we're moving 10 mph, and everyone's late. So I won't be the first or last to thank the Apple Corporation of Cupertino for delivering this magic device that holds, at present, 8679 links to serenity now. The mother ship holds 80,544 more and the internets, infinity! (Apologies to the underpaid and overworked of Suzhou, China.)
So who will save the world this morning? The Groundhogs? The Mighty Groundhogs? Nah, this ain't 200 Pound Underground. It's the southbound Van Wyck now, and now is A Giant Dog. We first got cozy with A Giant Dog via the piercing girl group siren skag of "The Grand" on 12XU's Casual Victim Pile II, a swooping, delirious and deceptively wicked velvet crush of harmony and swagger, all in 2 minutes and 46 seconds. Delish! As has come to be expected, 12XU continues to provide a crucial portal into the lux interior of the Austin metro area's most worthwhile practitioners of the combustible sonic arts. Now, we know what you're thinking. A cursory tour through LOLOTD and it's easy to conclude we're just shills for the 12XU hobbyist behemoth. We've gushed about the 12XU roster and associated alums for decades, so, perhaps it is true. But as someone older than us once said, what's good is great, so they got me in a corner. Oh no no no!
But this A Giant Dog, hubba hubba. Today's rain and concrete drag allowed for two complete flights through Fight, and we are smitten - smoted! - by the sustained pow of their crunchy fever lix, tight tyrannosaurus action and, in yet another improbable cosmic confluence, great rocknroll songsterism - just like Literature, the Golden Boys, Flesh Lights, Kingdom of Suicide Lovers, Dead Space, Harlem, Dikes of Holland, et al. A Giant Dog are as inspired and teetering as the New York Dolls circa '73, stoked on barbed wire girl group harmonies and wrapped in strummin' mental rifferama. You best believe we're in luv L-U-V.
But please do not mistake the notion that A Giant Dog dabbles in some retronaut posturing. It ain't so. References to past purveyors of the devil's music is our particular take on the underlying cauldron that lends form to A Giant Dog's version of dirty deeds done dirt cheap. 60tz girl groups, surf scales and trash punk all sound like they're burning unchecked through this trio's amps. And yea, we know they have the same gender configuration of Cruddy. Maybe we're making too much of a perceived Hullabaloo (the tv show) influence; perhaps A Giant Dog don't even know they're doing it! Hear us out: We dare anyone to deny the barely contained primal tension sparking from the best of the classic girl groups, you know, the Crystals, the Ronettes, the Shangi-Las, et al. Encounters with these golden era gems at the diner, supermarket or mom's 80th birthday party are rare snatches of lust and depth from an otherwise sanitized landscape of popular culture. Yet they maintain their subliminal wallop, even when standing on line at the bank. We hear that very same element in A Giant Dog. Barely containable, which is thrilling. Which is great rock music.
In fact, Fight is so good, we're only slightly annoyed anymore that their label, Tic Tac Totally, didn't even send us the record after our shopping cart checked out a combo package that included the OBN IIIs record and a grab bag surprise called "a package of slime" or some such. We now figure the slime part is this: TTT takes our money and doesn't send the records. Now, it is possible that the creepy guy on the first floor of our building just might've absconded with the package, but hey, everything else has managed to get through, even the Kim Phuc record (although we must admit, it was missing a download code). More troubling to our cultured countenance, howevs, is that our emails to TTT go unanswered. Desperate pleas, unheaded. Now that's just plain rude.
To further blemish this rave up for A Giant Dog, we continue: Whenever record hounds take our money and fail to deliver, we can't help but furrow our brows in cursed protest and ruminate about the fall of Circuit Records back when, cuz, you know, skag heaven is in the alley behind the 7-11. See, we're reduced to name calling, evil eyeing and rumor mongering. Guess we're still pissed! Well, we'll deal with TTT later and since we're forgiving types, maybe we'll have to allow for the possibility that the package is just delayed four months. The USPS is having a hard time these days. But maybe TTT is so inundated with requests for A Giant Dog's Fight, they've buckled under the demand and have not the person power to honor our contract. A Giant Dog's power is so riveting, it should be the only explanation; would that it should and could be true.
Suffice to say, A Giant Dog transcends. Yea, we were forced to finally procure the music via ruthless contemporary connects, but so be it. A Giant Dog has our money already and if they don't, someone should pay TTT a visit. In any case, we here at LOLOTD wholly endorse incessant rewinds of Fight whether one is trapped in a car or contending for the living room air guitar championship. The one/two knock out of "Too Metal"/"Dog Collar Blues" is as insanely great as Blasted Canyons' "Lasers Vs. Lizards"/"Ice Cream Man." A visit to NYC in a trifecta of A Giant Dog, Call Of The Wild and the Flesh Lights, should the latter ever cleave themselves away from the June 2012 nipple of the Hives, would be swell. Whether or not that ever comes to pass, we say to A Giant Dog (in full Kicks mag jive argot): NYC oldsters and dragsters dig your hunch!
