When I Grow Up, I Wanna Fuck Like A Girl

Point blank, everything about All Leather is patently built to annoy. From the name of the band (invoking bars frequented by hairy dudes in buttless chaps) to the title of the disc (guarantee to trigger red-state kneejerk reactions) to assorted song titles (the opening track, “I Do It With My Prick Out,” obviously an ode to the joys of creating topiary garden statues), everything about All Leather is meant to evoke both giggles and outrage. And we haven't even discussed how the sonuvabitch actually sounds…



So what might you expect from a band whose lineup includes include the 21st century king of schism Justin Pearson (the Locust, Some Girls, Head Wound City) on vocals, guitarist Nathan Joyner (also of Some Girls) and Jung Sing (from Mexican electro-irritants Maniqui Lazer) pounding on electronic drums? If you decided on, let's see, sneering teen-male prostitute attitude and trebly guitars processed for maximum room-evacuation that are held together solely with a rhythmic thump and assorted electronic bleeps, bloops, chirps andskrzzzzllllls, then hooray for you, dolphin-features: Go start another blog. These nine tracks are teeming with a circuit-encrusted attitude that seemingly borrows classic caged-animal vitriol (cf. New York no wave and riot grrl movements), Atari Teenage Riot's digital abrasions and the kind of sonic discoveries one would find in classic '80s synth-punk (cf. Screamers, Public Image's Metal Box, Bill Nelson's Red Noise). Sing's repetitive rhythms ensure you could dance to this disc; if you do, you're probably in line to be profiled on one of those faces-of-meth websites that are so popular with hipster kids and DEA agents these days

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All Leather's debut “album” (nine tracks at a hair above 23-and-a-half minutes, no doubt appealing to the Never Shout Never market) is the kind of thing that makes Sumatriptan addicts want to strip their clothes off in joyous abandon, in an effort to copulate with parts of BMWs parked in front of trendy dance clubs. It is the aural equivalent of heating a straightened paperclip until it glows orange and then slowly jamming said object into your ear canal. It's also one of the best records of 2010. Hot-wire your heart.

Dim Mak http://www.dimmak.com/