Die Shellsuit, Die!

An Alternative Music Magazine

OCD Go Go Go Girls


Sometimes it seemed like Lovvers would never record anything as long as an actual album.

Since they got in the van in May 2006 they’ve caused bleach blonde chaos in any room that’d have them, put out four 7"s (three on Johnson Family and a split with The Death Set) and last autumn’s exhilarating 13-minute EP ‘THINK’. But they’ve got here and it’s been worth the trip, as OCD Go Go Go Girls lays down punch after of punch melodic, unkempt punk rock - ripping up rather than ripping off ‘60s pop, Ramones, Pixies, garage rock from MC5 to its revival earlier this decade (The Hives, in particular) and various eras of Sub Pop.

Lovvers are like a musical history lesson gone awry. Everything about ’Alone With A Girl’ could be from a Ramones song: the catchy, repetitive riff; the title; the brevity; the "na na na’s", even if the production is as far away as possible from the sound the New Yorkers achieved with Phil Spector. They’re hilarious bloggers, spellcheck nightmares and interview liars - according to one ’In The Studio’ piece, drummer Stephen is now cockless, while bassist Michael joined the band after the others found him in a tree on the way to practice (that could be true).

Absolutely nothing here escapes the fuzz and distortion of distinctly Transatlantic hue. OCD Go Go Go Girls was record in analogue in Portland, Oregon, and while it has charm it also puts a muffler on the aggression of Lovvers’ previous recordings and performances. This LP nowhere near as intense or intimidating as their confrontational live reputation might suggest. Some songs, such as ’Ad Lib’, wouldn’t sound out of place on a demo by The Libertines. Most, though, are far more enjoyable, like the almost-title track ’OCD Go Go Girls’ and the nagging punk-pop of ’Creepy Crawl’. Classic and surf rock riffs are re-imagined and made mucky on ’Human Hair’, showing Henry Withers as some sort of anti-guitar hero.

Closer ’Wild Smiles’ provides the most intriguing hint to where Lovvers might take their sound next. Longer (at four minutes, it’s quarter the length of THINK), heavier and clearer than the preceding twenty, it builds and builds to a shimmering guitar freak out with Hencher chanting unfathomable, tribal things. A hidden track is a less enticing mutant croon on piano. Distorted of course.

Listen: www.myspace.com/letscommunicate