The Rake’s Progress
at Local 186
by Chaz Thorndike
While I won’t go quite so far as one well-paid journalist who declared, “If you haven’t seen The Rake’s Progress live, then your life has no meaning,” I might say that they drench the crowd in sweaty energy. It might seem ironic to refer to a band that screams “make us fuck!” as charming, but that should give you an idea of the level of charm that The Rakes possess. One of them howls a lyric, turns beet red and bulges his eyes, while the others sing tender, witty choruses and lay the whole thing over catchy, slightly noisy, alternapop. They’re said to be a NYC club fave, and with their blues-gone-haywire pop-punk thrust, coated with off-kilter, humorous lyrics, it’s not hard to see why. Put it this way, they make “whoa” into a chorus the way Orangutang (R.I.P.) makes “pound” work (24 times!) and (I may be stretching a point) Crash Test Dummies get away with “Mmm.”
The Rake’s Progress’ Cheese Food Prostitute (HiFi) serves up six big slices of juicy, only mildly predictable sing-along power pop hits. “You Must Be On Drugs,” “You’re Too Cool,” and a video in which milk is more the central figure than any band member shows this band to be the quirky bunch their press kit keeps claiming them to be. Their tongues are sharp, and if they keep putting them in their cheeks…