L7
"Slap-happy"
Wax Tadpole Records
Grade: B
Since they sprung from the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles' dirty glam-slut punk scene in 1985, the members of L7 have continued to prove that they are not the type of girls to bring home to ma and pa.
They are, however, the type of girls to bring home if ma and pa happen to have a hankering for sonic-fuzz infested crunchy guitar riffs, steady and grinding tempos and nasally yet hypnotic vocal cadences - like my parents.
It's characteristics like the ones listed above that have kept L7 in the guts of many fans for much of the 1990s. You just can't shake 'em, they're simple and lovable like the Ramones but naughty like Motorhead. Add to that a pissed feminine toughness like Joan Jett and you've got enough spit and gravel to pave the road to rock and roll hell and back, complete with a stop at the local liquor store.
Of course L7's road is one seldom traveled by mainstream America, and aside from the 1992 alternative hit "Pretend We're Dead" and their 1994 slot on the Lollapalooza tour, the group has remained in relative obscurity, despite being on a major record label for much of the time.
But that doesn't mean these girls haven't been busy.
Since their self-titled 1990 debut release on the independent punk label Epitaph, L7 has released 5 albums, including 1998's "Live: Omaha to Osaka." Their most commercially successful album was their major-label debut "Bricks are Heavy," on Slash records.
Recently L7 has gone full circle after a messy split from Reprise records and have released their latest album, "Slap-happy," on their newly-founded label - Wax Tadpole Records.
The title of the first track on "Slap-happy" is enough to let everyone know that L7 is as gritty as ever. "Crackpot Baby" feels as heavy and infectious as an 18-pack of Bud-heavy longnecks, but not any old 18-pack, the kind you can only get in Texas because each bottle has a picture of the state on it.
Oh no, it gets worse.
The second track, "On My Rockin Machine," has a quick down-stroke tempo with L7's signature chunky and muted guitar riffs that adds up to about a two and a half minute-long kick in the nuts. Ah, such sweet destruction.
Much of the album flows at about the tempo of a Camero cruisin' in second gear, with an occasional shift into third for a quick corner. It's a good speed because you're sitting in a Camero, but sometimes it becomes a bit tedious and at times even mopeds have the balls to pass you. Lyrically, the group has left vocabulary on the curb and generally sticks with easy rhymes and basic word usage.
While many of the tracks show little departure from L7's tried and true recipe for post-punk aggressive rock, some tracks introduce a side of L7 most probably didn't know existed. A groovy side. Yes, I said it. A groovy side.
On "Livin' Large," the name itself shows a change from past titles like "Wargasm" and "Hungry for Stink," they use no fuzz on the guitar and sing in a pretty voice that sounds like it could just as easily be Luscious Jackson as it could be L7.
But the flavor doesn't stop there. On "Freeway" it sounds like they used a Wal-mart keyboard for the drum beat and there's even a sampled girl voice that says "check, check, check it out" and a deep guy voice that interjects things like "peace!" and "do it! do it!" followed by zany robo sounds. The song is weird yet catchy and if they didn't say "fuck" so many times in it I'd say it could be a radio hit. Maybe it still can, rap songs are, I guess.
By the album's swan song, "Mantra Down," it's obvious that despite the style changes, label changes and stints of stardom one thing remains the same - L7 is still one tough-ass rock and roll band in every sense of the word.
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