Pipe down feminists and non-romantics. We are only talking, of course, about the Calgary all-male quartet named after their fairer sex. Along with Wavves and Crystal Stilts, Women ply their trade in savant tape-hiss noise rock and are such hot tickets for 2009 you’ll probably need to stick them in the freezer for a few hours before you can handle them. Presuming you’re not Mel Gibson (and if you are, stop sending us those weird postcards, please) you’ll have no idea what Women want. This, their debut release, is a disjointed affair with as much tangibility as an episode of Britain’s Most Haunted. One minute it’s dark, moody Times New Viking-esque riffs to rip your beard off, the next all sweet surf pop played through a dusty old hi-fi system. On Woodbine they invite us to caress their silky textures, like freshly shaved legs on an Immac advert, but when we get as far as Black Rice they just want to hold hands and walk by the beachfront listening to the Shins on their Walkman. And after all that Sag Harbour Bridge seems to suggest that they might just stab us with a kitchen knife while we’re asleep. Album closer Flashlights rips us to shreds with harpie wings, before nursing us back to health with a kiss on the cheek and a drop of lavender oil.
It’s Women’s veil of mystery that acts as a red flag to our bullish rush to devour them whole. This album won’t fail to make you flush with first date excitement. Sure, you’ll spend the date wondering whether they’ll be capricious psychopaths not worth your time when it comes to a full-blown relationship, but you can’t deny that telling flutter in your ribcage and spring in your step. Women’s debut is a well-aimed arrow from these Canadian Cupids’ bows, and you fear the next one will be aimed straight at the jugular.
See also: Crystal Stilts- Alight Of Night [Slumberland], Times New Viking- Rip It Off [Matador], My Bloody