Demolition Doll Rods

T.L.A. (Matador)
by Jon Sarre

Any and all appeal beyond the kissylipstick face value of these trash mavens is lost on me, especially once ya hit the play button and endeavor to listen to Ferndale, MI’s three person freak show as they strut their raggedyass chops. Demolition Doll Rods are a drag – literally and figuratively – even with the estimable talents of a tarted-up Dan Krona (ex-Gories, muscle behind Andre Williams’ Silky) as a major part of the equation.

Krona doesn’t really bring much to the party (probably cuz he couldn’t stuff a whole lot into that g-string they make him wear), mostly supplying backing and call-and-response vox and guitar fuzz to fill the spaces between Christine’s bone-shakin’ Fred Flintstone drum beats. Margaret pretty much wears the pants in the band (which is again limited to those thong things). Her husky growl takes charge of the proceedings and, besides her sister’s moronotronic jungle rhythms, there ain’t much else to the band’s sound. That’s okay when she has something fun to say beyond “U Look Good” (see Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out” – or is it Loverboy’s “Workin’ For the Weekend”? informed “Married For the Weekend”). What ya usually get, though, is puppy lust-inspired booty shakes’n’jelly slop breakdown. Sounds like shit, too. Not riotously anarchic fucked up shit, either. As shit goes, it’s pretty boring.
(625 Broadway New York, NY 10012)