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Tigre |
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There are a lot of people talking revolution of some stripe or another these days, and an inordinate percentage of those people happen to be pop musicians. In the last year, everyone from Steve Earle to Camper Van Beethoven to the Beastie Boys has rushed to get a new record on the shelves in which they register their general distaste for the Bush administration. I feel this same distaste myself, but I also feel that this has all denigrated into a cartoon: when one of my coworkers at my day job and I decided to blame our missing product, broken computers, etc. on the incompetence of the Bush administration, it was hardly more absurd than the notion that many of these artists get paid to make these anti-war statements by the same people who fund arms manufacturers. Maybe I’m naive, but I’ve always expected better from Kathleen Hanna. Hanna first rose to prominence in the early 1990s as the vocalist for Bikini Kill, a band that, as the cornerstone of the “riot grrl” movement, made a case for indie rock as instrument of social change by filling their liner notes with feminist manifestos, distributing zines at shows, and sticking with the Olympia, Wash.-based Kill Rock Stars label even as the post-Nirvana indie feeding frenzy kicked into full swing. After Bikini Kill disbanded in 1998, Hanna relocated from Olympia to New York City and formed Le Tigre with J.D. Samson and Johanna Fateman. From the beginning, the band has pursued a danceable electronic sound that recalls new wave and ‘80s dance music more than it does the unadulterated punk snot of Hanna’s previous group. Despite the debatably more accessible direction, though, Le Tigre has remained a politically outspoken group throughout their career, and their lyrics frequently deal in some way with feminist and/or political issues. With these precedents in mind, it was surprising at first to hear that Le Tigre’s new LP, This Island, was slated for release on the corporate juggernaut/merger nightmare that is Universal Records, home of Three Doors Down, Elton John, and Nelly, to name a few. Their first single for the label, “New Kicks,” is basically just anti-war speeches and crowd chants set to a beat, which makes this all even more of a conundrum: does Le Tigre not know (or care?) that they’re sleeping with the enemy of the revolution they supposedly espouse? Does Universal not know what they’re getting into with Le Tigre? Is this all a prank to fuck with my head? Listening to This Island in its entirety brings a bit of clarity to the equation. First and foremost, one realizes that, despite the fact that the band appears in photo shoots with “STOP BUSH” scrawled all over their clothes and tries to stir up controversy by releasing a song like “New Kicks” to MTV and rock radio, Le Tigre’s primary objective is not to incite revolt; it’s to get the white-belt hipster crowd shaking their skinny asses, something I’m sure they do just fine. With their dinky synths, old-school beats, and processed guitars, Le Tigre falls directly in line with the current ‘80s revival that the kids are chewing through up like a pack of Bubblicious, making sure all the while that you could easily dance to these songs without thinking one bit about Bush, universal health care, or anything else. The
second thing one realizes is that even when the band does get overtly
political, their wading pool of rhetoric is pretty shallow. With
the exception of the aforementioned “New Kicks”, the
most fiery tirade on this record belongs to “Seconds”,
a song rooted in the same piss-and-vinegar fire that marked Bikini
Kill songs like “Liar.” Unfortunately, despite the fact
that Hanna has aged more than a decade since that song was recorded,
“Seconds” doesn’t show any marked maturation in
her lyrical bent, overlooking the current administration’s
disastrous policies in favor of sticking it to Bush with snotty
potshots. (Sample lyric: “You’ve lied ten thousand times/It’s
show business anyhow/Why don’t you put that tongue back in
your mouth/You make me sick.”) If anybody is given pause to
reconsider their pro-Bush leanings by this song, it’s unlikely
that they’re old enough to have pubic hair, let alone voting
rights. Actually, I might have the answer to that one: about 3/4 of the way into This Island, Le Tigre graces us with a cover of the Pointer Sisters’ 1982 hit “I’m So Excited” that (were one to remove from the equation Hanna’s tendency towards shrill, atonal Johnny Rotten-isms) would fit perfectly onto the soundtrack of any John Hughes film pre-Curly Sue. The first time I heard Le Tigre burst into that unforgettable chorus, I’m pretty sure I could feel that ol’ nostalgia locomotive veer right off the track and burst into flames. Only time will tell if anybody else feels the same way, but there is one thing I know for sure: it was at that same exact moment that I was sure I wasn’t having any fun listening to This Island anymore. So much for the revolution. —Dustin Krcatovich |
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