The Virgins’ debut album arrives on a wave of buzz stuck to the bottom of a desk with revoltingly second hand bubblegum (see the front cover). They’re pitched as a poppy 80s-ish Strokes and their new album mentions ‘cocaine brunches’ in the first 30 seconds, meaning they are officially dangerous and not teenagers playing pop punk games with their local vintage shop and Converse sellers. The lyrics about wealthy girls, scandalous love affairs and late night parties soon tire as the inevitable rot of being more driven towards scene-straddling than playing sets in and we wonder if this band was invented for Gossip Girl watchers. The 80s dance energy and sharp guitars and the weird 80s basslines all allude to the 80s club circuit in New York, but summarily, highlighting the emptiness that lay within by standing for precisely nothing other than commenting on coked up girls blowing boys tee hee and rugged t-shirts hoo-haa and dancing all night oh me oh my... the danger, the anger, the horror the horror.
This is supposed to be comment on the rich not an aspiration to walk amongst them as equals, which is precisely where this music falls. ‘She’s Expensive’ ‘Rich Girls’ and the shoulda-been-an-Ibiza-anthem-guitar-led ‘Private Affair’ lay down the conceit that New York is a jungle (heard it), rich girls there like drugs, boys, hedonism and nothing else (heard it), rich people can be mean, empty and self-obsessed (heard it) and wow, look at all these parties I’m not invited to (not interested). The earnest delivery of the lyrics, the lack of subtlety, the lack of metaphor and the lack of care when choosing its targets make for an insipid and creepy foray into 80s power punk pop by numbers... ending with the mysterious and deep ‘Love is Colder Than Death’- like, woah, deep. So yeah, if you’re as empty as these rich girls, if you’re a teen lover with no interest for the little things, the little details... if you like rehashed zeitgeist 80s pop punk by numbers, get this and play it for 6 months till the next buzz comes along. In the meantime, spend your money on an album that’s out this month too and will destroy all the same targets, and properly, like a monolith of RAWK (I’m talking about ‘It’s Blitz’ by Yeah Yeah Yeahs). The Virgins... insert your own joke about whatever you want here, I’ve struggled to write this much about this latest ‘buzz band.’
Hello and welcome and yeah... in an oversaturated blog-o-glob... we throw our 2 dubloons in.
Avocado Picker: 28, author, journalist... specialist subjects include: the Wire, the post X-Files career of Agent Scully, Bollywood music 1950-1970, Spider-man, Dare Devil, The Sopranos, British comedy 1990-present, the complete works of Chuck Palahniuk and Aniruddha Bahal, Arnie films pre- True Lies, and different uses for cheese in culinary situations.
The Mystery Voice: 30, software engineer, time waster... specialist subjects include: Linux (etc), C++ & PHP (and other animals, yawn), Physics (blah), British comedy past and present (yay), grand master Mornington Crescent (huh?), the incomplete works of Douglas Adams and Bill Bailey (wtf?)