By Jamie Peck
Best Friends Forever play music that’s as cute as their name. Everything about them screamed of that twee, childlike-yet-sexual aesthetic made popular by people like Kimya Dawson and Miranda July. The bassist even looked like Miranda July with her retro outfit, pixie-ish haircut, and big blue eyes. The singer/keyboardist/guitarist exclaimed twisting stories with the breathless eagerness of a little kid while the band jammed out over it. All this might sound like a bit much, and it was…but unlike most twee-pop bands, they didn’t rub me the wrong way, mainly because they were actually good at their instruments, but also because they had a good sense of humor. That bassist turned out to have some wicked fast fingers, and spat funky walking lines just as fast as the singer spat out precious tales. To be fair, some of the lyrics were pretty good, too: for example, a story about falling through the ice and almost dying was told in an almost joking way, with none of the “poor me” attitude inherent in other artists’ delivery (like, say, the Mountain Goats). “I almost died/it was so embarrassing” actually made me grin. The singer also had a great little bit in which she introduced a song by saying “this is a special sound we use in Minneapolis when we want to attract a lover,” then shook about and went “aaaaa-AAAA-aaah!” a noise of pure, gleeful silliness. I’ll have to try that sometime.
After leaving Ms. Bea’s I had to spend an inordinate amount of time on practicalities; picking up passes at the convention center, carting my stuff over to the hotel room I’m sharing with my editor at Suicidegirls, finding and consuming food, etc. By the time I finished doing these things, there wasn’t a whole lot of time left to hear music before everything shut down. To make matters worse, I was sleepy and sober. Fortunately, my editor convinced me to go to Room 701 to catch Lozen, a band I’d never heard of but which she assured me was good. Though their name reminds me of the word “lozenge,” (which, coincidentally, I’ve been sucking on all day to combat my tour cold), their music was a pleasant surprise and didn’t remind me of a lozenge at all. Two fairly normal-looking women, a bassist and a drummer, got up on stage and proceeded to rock my face off. The first song started off slow and built to various crescendos, time signature changes, and vocal sections, with intense drumming that sounded tribal at times. The bassist played chords, high notes, and fuzz with versatility, proving once again that bass is the best instrument when you know what to do with it. The sparse vocals were placed just right, with weird harmonies, belted-out rock lines that sounded like Queen, and sections of intense “huh”s that my crazy ex-roommate would surely describe as “nightmare karate music.”
Due to the ridiculously long time the previous band (a nu-metal outfit fronted by a woman in some unfortunate red pants) took, their set was cut short; when the last song stopped on a dime, everyone shouted for more to no avail. As a girl who likes weird music, I was pleased to hear such jam-heavy progressive being made by women, though I should also mention that unlike most (dude) prog rock bands, their songs didn’t overstay their welcome. Maybe there’s something to be said for musicians with no penis to practice their wanking on.
