They ripped through song after song with a minimum of stage banter. The music scream a mile a minute, like a souped-up muscle car with the pedal to the floor,
Many have the look of magazine illustration, albeit of the “tone it down, we can’t run that” variety, although a few have appeared in well-known magazines.
First gig. Straight-ahead indie rock, but with some unpredictable melodies, vocals with just enough counterpoint to stretch the imagination, and snappy rhythms.
All-girl punk trio from Indiana with a fast, loud, old school punk sound. They have the hate/pissed off/who gives a fuck? that’s kept me going all these years.
Chris Trapper’s songwriting is totally accessible, catchy, and emotionally appealing. It’s sensitive-boy rock, but not the whiny, emotionally manipulative kind.