Darlings of Chelsea Panic is Worse Than the Emergency
Self-Released
Darlings of Chelsea, the Toronto band whose members once filled prominent roles in Canuck sleaze rock outfits like The Black Halos, Robin Black, Kill Cheerleader, and CJ Sleez, have got that stone cold, leather n’ booze sound pinned down and crowned. Their full-length debut, Panic is Worse Than the Emergency, follows 2009′s EP, The Mimico Sessions, and offers a full slate of sing-along bruisers amped for prime time, the kind of dingy club fun that plays insanely well from London to Stockholm and all low points in between. Despite its junkie charms, however, there’s not a song on Panic is Worse Than the Emergency that isn’t a slick, million dollar ride, each one sparked by electric riffs, biting solos, and addictive hooks. It’ll remind you of Gluecifer, Bloodlights, The Hellacopters, D-Generation, and the Chelsea Smiles, among others, thanks to the way it seamlessly blends gritty alt-punk, sugary pop, and five alarm arena rock, or you might compare it to a swift, Chuck-footed kick to crotch — if you’ve ever had the dirty pleasure.
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So, are the Biters the biggest band in the world yet? I think we need to look into it. They have to be by now. Have to be. They’re circling the skies above Tokyo at this very moment in a private jet piloted by a chimp in aviator shades and a rhinestone vest, right? Well, while I wait for confirmation on this, I’m gonna try to wrap my head around another EP from Atlanta’s shock n’ awesome rock n’ roll show, because, truth be told, I’m still not over the first two yet. With album-of-the-year hardware still warm in their hands, the Biters refuse to take their cheetah-skinned shoes off of the accelerator for even a minute, intent on driving headlong into candy-land in the middle of the starry night instead of slowing down to enjoy the ride. But can you blame ‘em? Tuk and Co. are pumping out hits like a gumball machine with a broken dispenser and the resulting sugar high is beyond euphoric. Like the previous two EPs, All Chewed Up is a glam-pop junkie’s dream come true, but manages to separate itself slightly by offering a few extra songs (seven instead of the customary five) and adding Bolan (“Rock N Roll Loser”) and Poon (“[Oh Yeah] The Bitch Wants More”) to the roll call of influences that already includes Nielsen and Thunders. The Biters do it again, my friends. The question is, how many more times are they gonna do it before the year is out?
From The Heart Attacks to Poison Arrows to Biters, the long road of rock n’ roll glory for singer/guitarist Tuk has been littered with trashy riffs, drug problems, and dead ends. The usual suicide story that sticks to every tight-pant Thunders junkie like a safety pin on a worn out leather jacket lands a lot closer to sad than success, but if the stigma doesn’t kill ya, it can only make you stronger, right? Probably, which is why Tuk hopes his latest bubblegum machine, Biters, will break through the bastard cliches and avoid the inevitable burst that comes when you sink your teeth into the cheap, sticky solution of reckless days and wasted nights. Whether that happens remains to be seen, but for now our springboard is this self-titled EP, and goddamn it if it’s not screamin’ at me like a gaggle of teenage groupies. With the five deliciously catchy glam punk ditties on board here, I don’t know how the Biters are ever going to avoid burnin’ out in the gutter like a bunch of high school dropouts. This is some magic marker mayhem, man, part Cheap Trick power pop, part New York Dolls lipstick rock, and all jukebox jive. If the Biters aren’t the biggest band in the world real soon, we’re all doomed.
Darlings of Chelsea
Biters
Biters