Frankie Rose and The Outs, Frankie Rose And The Outs
Too brash and too sonically restless to be mistaken for mere revivalists
A veteran of New York's garage rock scene, Frankie Rose graduates from the tween-y, slightly undercooked crackles of the Vivian Girls and Dum Dum Girls in her latest project with the Outs. This would-be girl group ditches the frills of the Shangri-La's: Margot Bianca's surf-influenced guitar is more in debt to the Seeds' splintering riffs; Caroline Yes's sun-damaged bass lines fuzz like a warped Electric Prunes single; Kate Ryan's whirling between her drum kit, bells and an organ, conjures Sandy Nelson's versatility, and Rose's jagged vocals evoke the soul of Dusty Springfield.
Unlike the masses of current garage rock revivalists, Rose and friends avoid the predictable hook-and-harmony blueprint. "Don't Tred" offers an erupting guitar, fervent vocals and rolling drums. In "Girlfriend Island," Rose and the Outs drown their heartbroken cries in heavy reverb, serrated bass lines and anthemic percussion, the song gradually fizzling down to just a sanguine guitar solo from Bianca. And "Candy," the group's poppiest confection, mocks the girl band trope of lovelorn lyrics: "Candy, oh oh Candy, you're my one true love I've waited for, oh candy!" Rose broods as the Outs bash and clatter behind her. The songs brim with '60s-inspired rhythms, but the groupis too brash and too sonically restless to be mistaken for mere revivalists.