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Women Shatter Glass Ceilings, Eardrums, Et Al.

I love the new self-titled album by Women. It’s currently available on the near flawless Jagjaguwar label, and since it’s based in Bloomington, serves as possibly the only really awesome thing about Indiana. As you can see, Women is (presumably) four dudes. Sausage fest!

I was introduced to Women (that sounds so odd) by a fellow Tiny Mix Tapes writer who proclaimed that Women is prefect for anyone who “gets their dick up to Animal Collective.” I was certainly intrigued after that statement, especially since he said the word “dick.” And while I would concur that the Calgary band sometimes evokes the more menacing material on Here Comes the Indian and Danse Manitee, Women are by no means a knock-off. Whereas Animal Collective has always exuded a playfulness and childlike veneer, here be dragons within Women. The crescendo of the excellently titled “Lawncare” wants to pillage your village and breed with your women (pun intended, motherfucker).

I would also be somewhat remiss to not recognize the pretty spot-on review courtesy of Jagjaguwar’s one sheet: “Sometimes light and spacious, at other times eerie and dense with an ominous weight, this self titled album touches upon Velvet Underground, Swell Maps or This Heat while not really having any obvious precursors – a lo-fi masterpiece cloaked in layers of vibrato and guitar wash.” That’s certainly true, as Women adopt the traditional instrumentation of gritty garage punk and stretch its potential across ’60s Nuggets-ready psychedelia, early ’80s no wave, and contemporary, slightly-askew pop peppered with noise flourishes. You also get a heavy-dose of the elusive hummable anthem with “Black Rice,” Fahey-esque guitar noodling on “Sag Harbor Blues,” and a nihilistic Madchester zeitgeist-meets Boredoms thirsty on bloodlust hodgepodge on “Shaking Hands.” The insanity and panning production on “January 8th” attacks your brain with holy water sprinklers. January 8th, as a fun fact, is David Bowie’s birthday. Women’s “January 8th” sounds nothing like David Bowie.

Despite the fact that I always applaud creativity, I do wish Women named themselves something… less awkward. For example, if I would to name drop Women in a conversation, it might go like this:

Dude A: “Yo Bloggins, I respect your opinion on music and culture so much cuz you’re the smartest bro I know, Quasibroto. So I just gotsta know what you’ve been jammin’ on lately. I’ve been feelin’ that new Hold Steady jam hive. Daaamn, makes me feel like gettin’ my drank on, lol. What chu been in to?”
Kenny: “Besides the new Lindsey Buckingham and my daily regiment of mid-’70s light rock and pop standards?”
Dude A: “Well, yeah.”
Kenny: “I’ve really been into women.”
Dude A: “… um, RIGHT ON, BROSEPH!”
Kenny: “omg, I know, right”

And then it’s mega weird for a while.

So if you enjoy these MP3s, maybe you should czech them out live this fall, or perhaps pick up the album. The whole thing’s good – strong like bear, mean like wolf.

MP3 :::
Women – Lawncare
Women – Black Rice
Women – January 8th
Women – Flashlights