Giddy Motors
Make It Pop
[Fat Cat; 2002]
Rating: 8.3
Punk was the future of rock 'n' roll way back in 1969, and I'll wager even money that it still is. It's
the sheer "fuck you" of it. That doesn't mean aggression, or spiked shoulders, and certainly not the late
70s marketability that came from politicizing it-- just a band's desire to play whatever the hell they want,
without regard for anyone who may or may not want to hear it. The Velvets, the NY Dolls, The Ramones, X,
Big Black (and the list continues intermittently ad infinitum) were all just raising their middle finger to
their audience; the people who saluted back were the keepers.
But naturally, punk's elements of style were slowly, inexorably co-opted and assimilated into "markets" for
particular "sounds," finally settling into various media-friendly blocks like new wave and grunge. The punk
movement fizzled with the backslide into further genre Balkanization, but that doesn't mean the desire for
confrontation has subsided. For twenty years, punk has bided its time, and bands like Liars, Black Dice,
and now, Giddy Motors are poised at the starting line of the next big race in rock-- the race to get wherever
it is they want to go, and fast.
Make It Pop is the Motors' case study in hellish cacophony; with just guitar, bass, drums, and a
little sax (the most underused instrument in rock), Giddy Motors lurch, stomp, and eventually plunge headlong
into near-total bedlam. The only constant throughout is Manu Ros' flawless percussion; rhythm is the heart
of any band, and with drumming this solid, a band would be justified in doing just about anything, period.
Not an ounce of that opportunity is wasted, either-- when the Motors throw their act into high gear, the
bass clatters with a menace almost unheard since the days of Big Black (not surprising since Nietzschian
superman Steve Albini is working the controls), and Gaverick de Vis' guitar wails like thunder and lightning,
matched only by the orgiastic spasms of his own vocals. Together, the sound is hell on wheels, with a beat
that absolutely slaughters.
It's not until the band slows things down that Make It Pop is discernable as anything more than
well-assembled chaos, but finally, the influences start to fall into place: A slightly malicious take on
modern free jazz (evidenced most clearly by the intro to "Bottle Opener"), rhythmic stretches of post-punk
minimalism, and de Vis' fire and brimstone chants combine with violently swaying, stabbing melodies, directly
conjuring memories of Nick Cave and The Birthday Party (especially on the overwhelming "Cranium Crux"). A
sneering rap (of sorts) opens "Sassy" before it downshifts into a plodding assault of bass and snares,
punctuated by the occasional anguished yelp. Here, what is superficially pure chaos starts to make
incredible sense.
And then Giddy Motors catch you offguard: "Venus Medallist" enters as if your disc-changer had skipped ahead
to another record without your realizing it. All the contorted shouts, rumbling bass and dense percussion
give way to gently rolling acoustic guitar and gorgeous string swells. The disorientation this track
produces is almost palpable-- I spent the first half just waiting for a crash, an explosion, anything.
Instead, I ended up having to go back and listen from the beginning to what might actually be the highlight
of an already strong album. Beautiful and unexpected, "Medallist" is the signature on the Giddy Motors'
frantic mission statement for the future of rock.
-Eric Carr, February 12th, 2003