Live Review: The Jealous Girlfriends
Mercury Lounge, NY
Date: 5/28/08
***
Not long ago, ruffian musicians nailed out guitar licks, banged out drum fills, and belted into mics with hair covering faces–all of which used to exemplify rock music du jour. While many indie rock bands today have moved towards more tranquilized stage antics, The Jealous Girlfriends maintains a rambunctious garage band presence reminiscent of those days when, just maybe, you played your stereo past quiet hour just to piss off your neighbors. Tonight, one of guitarists/singers Josh Abbott’s observations illustrates this attitude well: “My microphone smells kind of like a urinal.” Funny thing is, we’ve heard this comment before, but last time it was singer/guitarist Holly Miranda who said it, and she replaced “urinal” with the operative word “ass.”
Like any true rebel, The Jealous Girlfriends, whose 2008 self-titled album met favorable reception (even earning placement on a segment of Grey’s Anatomy—it’s worth mentioning), still plays like it’s got something to prove. Striking up a first chord, the band fills New York’s Mercury Lounge with energetic guitar-driven rock, full of cymbal crashes, strong hooks and frenetic leg shaking, which hardly lets up for more than a half dozen songs. Miranda’s unique gravelly voice, at once resolute and tender, cuts clear through all the noise—which is no easy feat against the combined sounds of her guitar, Abbott’s guitar, a keyboard, synths, bass, and drums. The Girlfriends play several of their most notable songs, like “Roboxulla,” “The Pink Wig to My Salieri” and “Organs on the Kitchen Floor,” remaining satisfyingly loyal to the album versions. They also mix in a couple of new tunes, including one upbeat number featuring a growling Abbott on lead vocals, backed by a punchy snare beat that sets the mood for dancing.
There is a particularly memorable moment in the performance, during another of the band’s new songs (“It’s about NAFTA,” Miranda says, and that’s not a joke): as drummer Mike Fadem plays a steady tom-filled solo, with Miranda’s pleading voice running through it, the crowd’s screaming builds, until they’re answered back with an explosion of wailing guitars. Rabble-rousing as they may appear to be, The Jealous Girlfriends want you to like them back. The song ends on a beat. About five seconds of silence until someone yells, “ONEMOREFUCKYEAH!” Of course, they oblige.
