It's been a summer of geeking out on girl-fronted bands. I saw Dum Dum Girls and left thinking dum dum dum dum dumb. As buzz around Best Coast amplifies to vuvuzela levels, I ponder why no one is calling Best Coast out on writing the same song over and over to exhaustion? (I miss you, I'm waiting, I'm wanting, I'm boring, I'm bratty, I'm lonely, I think about you and it compels me to write songs like a 13 year old with a new diary.) I am forgetting another relevant band, but in my lapse in memory I feel as though I've made my point.
Which is why I'd like to talk to you about Tennis. Yes, it's a married duo, but we don't hear her husband speak on record, so it's really like he doesn't exist and we can swoon over her voice without guilt – right? No, we must stop this mess of letting girl musicians get by on pedestrian playing and awkward cuteness or taking the stage in lace and leggings eye candy that dull the ears' tolerance. Tennis is not pulling the wool, nor the sheets, leaving it's pop pleasantries exposed and beautiful. We implored you to help sell out it's South Carolina 7″ on Fire Talk (which it did) and now it's time to continue the support for its Underwater People sponsored 7″.
As Tennis take to the road once again, let's hope the sprawling journey inspires more regional titles and Tennis quietly road map a collection of American odes. The casual nods so far, hint at a possibility that the duo could do it without proclaiming lofty Sufjan Stevens-like goals.