Thursday, November 3, 2011

The Good Ship Rediscovery: Coachwhips - Get Yer Body Next Ta Mine

We all forget about the older stuff from time to time, in our quest to stay up to speed with the latest and greatest. But one should always respect their elders. So don’t forget about them, y’hear?

Our next stop on this here jaunt through records you really should get to know is one I've been fond of since circa 2003. At the time, I was working at Olssons Books & Records, opining to discerning customers about music they needed in their lives, when into my life popped the sensationally silly, more than somewhat crude snarl of Coachwhips. If you like your music straight up messy, you're probably already predisposed to enjoy the outlandishly awesome Get Yer Body Next Ta Mine.

Rough, raunchy, and at times ridiculous, GYBNTM is more often than not hovering on the brink of being totally and utterly shambolic. But listen closely and you'll hear a surprising amount of control and purpose. Take, for instance, the deliciously rude song stylings of "I Put It In Way Down South." For one, if I have to tell you what that song is all about, you probably have no business being here. There's all manner of unbridled filth being spewed in the song's lyrical content, but underneath all that lo-fi chaos lurks a jangle that has always struck me as resembling a slower, dirtier "You Really Got Me." Would The Kinks approve of this comparison? Probably not. But I'm making it all the same.

These are not songs of love, friends. Oh no. These are nameless, drunken one-night stands with someone you know's significant other while they're out of town in song form. The songs are brief, full-throttle vicious vignettes. Everything is turned up well past 11, and half the time you won't even be able to decipher what's being sung. "Like Food, It Feeds" lulls with a simple intro before expanding into growling, wicked noisiness. Apart from the occasional "like food it feeds," I have no earthly idea what's being sung. And I don't need to. Lyrics aren't the crux of what makes this record so dang good. On GYBNTM, it's all about attitude.

Song introductions, a rather charming touch, add a touch of slightly absurd formality to the proceedings. That's about as formal as it gets, though, as what follows the introductions is oftentimes an unholy racket. "UFO, Please Take Her Home" chugs along in steady, yet almost subtle, ferocity. It's one of the record's slower offerings, hurtling down the highway at a mere 65 instead of pushing 100. At just over 3 minutes, it's positively long for Coachwhips. I've always gotten a special kick out of "Hey Stiffie," the sloppy minute and a half that gives off slight undertones of 60s pop (under all that mucky muddiness, of course). "Couldn't Find Love" is another favorite, with split seconds of the vocals taking on an Ian Curtis quality to them before descending into utter shambles. The music, of course, remains always in the shambles. Which is how it belongs.

In closing, friends, this record won't be for all of you. But for those of you who enjoy your music getting more than a little down and dirty and rather loud, well, happy listening.

m4a: I Put It In Way Down South (Coachwhips from Get Yer Body Next Ta Mine)

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