Context: A good friend of mine, Katrina, had been talking about Girls on Grass for awhile and I had sort of paid attention to what she was saying, and, for real, she has an excellent ear for music… seriously. I don’t think she has ever steered me wrong. But, at the time I was trying to figure out my own stupid bullshit. Regardless, Katrina booked a show with us and Girls on Grass in Philadelphia.
I can’t remember the venue at this point… it wasn’t the Boot and Saddle… but it was something like that. An impossibly dumb load-in up carpeted stairs and through skinny swinging doors into a room any band on our level thinks, “Man, no one is going want to expend the energy to walk up stairs make a left , make a right, push open those doors to watch us play.” I was sort of right: there weren’t a lot of folks there. Also… playing on bills with bands you don’t know could be disappointing in the same ways most folks would describe a blind date that has gone “cease and desist”/”restraining order” bad.
I also can’t remember who went first, June Star or Girls on Grass… but it doesn’t matter. I loved them. Energy, musicianship, attitude. I got a copy of Dirty Power their second release and listened to it on the way back to Baltimore and it is a perfect record. It’s one of my favorite records. In fact, I just listened to it while writing this post. Eric “Roscoe” Ambel produced it with a solid production and clarity of sound. And, furthermore, Barbara Endes who writes, guitars, and sings these songs is straight up a singularly talented, aware, and seemingly unafraid songwriter. I love having the top of my head taken off by a songwriter.
But let me get specific on what really shines on this record… there is nothing… and I mean nothing out of place. Dave Mandl’s bass lines do exactly what great bass lines are meant to do… support the kick and propel the song forward and… and… and… tie up any real loose ends at the end of a vocal line or a guitar part. I think really great bass players and parts are more than the “glue” for something. That’s some bullshit there. What’s great with the bass on this record is that it feels sometimes like it is on its own trip but without taking away from what Barbara and Nancy are doing.
Nancy Polstein’s drumming is a direct blast of rock. There’s an undeniably bedrock posture to it that says, “Yeah, I know… I know… it’s rock-n-roll. What of it?” Right? I’m not sure if I can accurately explain what I feel… or even what I know… other than, I can listen to those drums on their own and hear the melodies; I can hear the song in my head. Even better is that there’s no real studio magic, I’ve been in the room and heard her play a set. Fucking great.
I guess where I lend most of my attention is, and in this order, lyrics, arrangement, then guitar. Barbara’s songs range from deep dives on romantic disasters (culminating in a new self-awareness) to a POV “great escape” narrative told from the perspective of a pig. Yup… pigs are pretty smart.
The thing is, is that Barbara’s voice, both her vocals and writing voice, are strong and unique. I don’t know if I believe in the idea of “raw” honesty… more like it’s “bare” honesty… there is nothing she hides… or at least she’s not afraid to reveal… an ultimate sense of punk. Truly no fucks to be given…
Here are the lyrics to “Friday Night”:
You don’t know how much I adore you
I can’t even look you in the eye
I’ll just stand here in back acting bored until you arrive
You said you’d be at the show
When will you arrive, arrive, arrive
I’ve never seen them before
But I hear they are really good live
Let’s make our way to the front
This feels like a dream
The stage lights light up your face
This feels like a dream a dream a dream
They’re passing around a joint
And I know you know what to do
I’ll figure it out too
This feels like a dream
We’re dancing and I am hoping you mean it
I’m in like with a chick who likes good music
I know when Monday comes
And I see you again in the hall
We won’t talk at all about it
The best night of my life
Not a word, maybe a look
The best night of my life
My life