Lovvers - Think (Wichita)
4/5
The additional 'v' is telling. There's something rotten at the core. A maggot in the apple, pink putrid flesh at the heart of that usual crisp crunch. Lovvers are that rubbery jelly cist that puts the teeth on edge, the stomach halfway up the throat and a metallic taste in the tract.
If that seems a twisted way of introducing a band, it's not exactly unsubstantiated. As those that have experienced the on-edge live show will attest, such grotesque imagery provides an apt summation of their scatological, scrappy insouciance. The extra 'v' is telling because live, lovers they certainly are not. But as the obdurate nature of their name suggests, they're a strange mess of contradictions.
For Lovvers are a contrary bunch. They're in thrall to both a certain punk history and the formation of their own mythology and as much as they appear ragged, bratty and indifferent, they're also a sharply knowing outfit. Formerly of the much-respected Murder of Rosa Luxemburg, lead singer Shawn Hencher has that perfect punk persona; wilfully nasty, puerile, peroxide hair like bleached -out blank soul. Reminiscent of a modern day Darby Crash filtered through a sunburnt grunge sheen, that same sense of self-immolation as self-mythology permeates throughout the entirety of Think, as it tumbles over itself, splattered with lo-fi squall, guitars like toxic ooze. But for all the surface level noise and purposefully cheap production, there are some insistent pop hooks here, much like kindred spirits No Age with whom they've recently toured.
With seven songs clocking in at under thirteen minutes, there may be little to firmly grasp hold of but there's also little time to get bored. Stand outs from their live set, 'No Romantics' and 'Wasted Youth' are documented here as pure SST-style cartoon violence, suggesting some sick reincarnation of Chucky amidst the backdrop of the scummy desolation of backwater LA. Indeed, there's a strong sonic affiliation with The Smell, if perhaps slightly more conventional than the main proponents of that scene. As with those bands - the aforementioned No Age, Abe Vigoda and Mika Mako in particular - there's a distinctly Dionysian attitude here, self-destruction cast as creativity and it's a compelling car crash.
As thrilling as the record is in places however, it's this self-destruction that in part hinders Think. As if undermining their appeal, keeping the vocals so distorted and low in the mix appears an obvious attempt to antagonise and sabotage in equal measure. As a statement, it's admirable if not a little self-defeating. But then again, Lovvers make no concessions; they aren't here to please anyone but themselves. Well, at least that's what they'd prefer you to think. They're arch antagonists for sure, but don't let that fool you into believing they don't care. Nihilism is a commitment that can't be feigned - just ask the survivors of Crash's Circle One - and Lovvers aren't here to f**k around. Well, they are, but fucking around is a serious business, y'know.
So, Think is a fine if flawed opening shot. But it's precisely that. This is just a mini-album, a precursor to god knows what else, if anything. While some bands seem fit to soundtrack the apocolypse, Lovvers sound like they may well prompt it. That is, of course, if they don't destroy themselves first.
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