7.13.2010 | 10:38 am

First Look: Best Coast – “Crazy For You”

Funny that two of 2010′s most notable female-fronted releases, Joanna Newsom’s Have One On Me and Best Coast’s Crazy For You, are all about guys. Newsom’s collection spends three discs and two hours on Serious Poetry and image-laden empowerment; Crazy For You is 30 minutes of BlackBerry-typed middle-school Tumblr posts. Newsom’s album is considered, nuanced, elegant; Best Coast’s is fast and loud.

But I have to give Crazy For You credit: the band was so sloppy and amateurish at SXSW that I skipped half the set and couldn’t be bothered to blog about them. The album is a different beast entirely. It sounds professional, even skillful, in the hands of producer Lewis Pesacov (Fool’s Gold, Foreign Born). It’s largely in the vein of the recent round-up of ’60s-via-’90s jangled-up girl-group revivalism, but when the choruses hit on tracks like “Boyfriend” or “I Want To,” the guitars bite with serious grunge-era teeth and the harmonies — a surreal blend of the Supremes and My Bloody Valentine — deserve an album of their own.

There’s been a lot of talk about the lyrics, and yeah, they mostly suck: they’re not as aggravating as, say, Wavves’ numbskull self-hatred, but in many ways the record plays out as a Mel Gibson fantasy: a girl wholly enveloped in feelings of misogynist worthlessness, wishing her cat could talk and pining for some certainly awful guy (life imitates art: Beth’s dating Wavves.). The songs are too straight-ahead to demand Newsom-level lyrical intricacy, but Best Coast’s antecedents — PJ Harvey, Hole, Nirvana — all managed to take their despair beyond See Spot Run. Given Best Coast’s Twitter pop hatred, I can’t imagine Beth’s a Taylor Swift fan, but she’d do well to learn from Fearless‘ sincere, capable relationship narratives. (Also, she should date a Jonas brother next.)

At 30 minutes, Crazy For You feels over-extended — the beefy production and rote rhythms start getting exhausting two-thirds in — but for a surprising portion of its run-time, the album sounds flat-out great. If you want a side of self-respect with your 2010 girl-punk, though, stick with Paramore.

More posts about: 2010

  • Tim

    I don't know what to make of this album. I loved all of Best Coast singles, and after hearing this LP a couple of times through, I feel her music is best suited for those 2-4 song singles. For me at least. The lyrics, like you mentioned, are really bad at times and seemed to be rehashed throughout. No matter how relatable it is to hear someone sing about boyfriends, weed, and TV for 12 songs, it doesn't make them good lyrics. None of the songs hit me like when I first heard “The Sun Was High” which pretty much broached the same subjects on this album but in a more subtle and meaningful way. I love love love her voice though on her singles. It made me swoon. On this it makes me nauseas.

  • http://www.rawkblog.net/ David Greenwald

    See, I didn't like the singles.

  • Tim

    Ah, you and I differ in so many ways, yet I still love your blog. Explanations? It's go to be our mutual love for Elliott Smith and Destroyer.

  • http://www.rawkblog.net/ David Greenwald

    Both heroes :)

  • Greg

    Here's why I think the singles were better: they left so much to the imagination we could map on whatever meaning we liked. In simple songs like “Sun Was High” or “When I'm With You,” the spare, mantra-like lyrics, washes of fuzzy guitars and beaming vocal gave left enough ambiguity that they could suit any mood.

    Greenwald is correct that the record is a hard left turn into girl-group pop. But that genre is not Best Coast's real strength. The album songs lack the sophistication of girl-group masters Phil Spector or Carole King, who could use a few words to evoke a frenzied psychodrama. (Point me to the Best Coast lyric as good as, “Can I believe the magic of your sighs? Will you still love me tomorrow?” Joanna Newsom's lyrics are so littered with thoughts this raw and complicated, often moreso, that it's just expected of her.)

    “Crazy for You” isn't real girl-group pop. In fact, it doesn't even seem to be going for that, just for a simulacrum for girl-group pop. Besty doesn't delve into complicated feelings, even adolescently complicated feelings. For some reason, she is still rhyming “crazy” and “lazy.” The album is full of pleasant sounds — her clarion voice and chiming Jazzmaster cannot be denied, complemented by reverbs that seem to keep ringing even after the album is finished — but I fear there is nothing below the surface.

    That could be OK, because that's pop. But my first impression is that there's nothing on the surface either.