This eight-song Little Claw debut is the kind of thing every town needs; noise and scree for ADD-addled kids and people too oblivious to pay attention to three-minute pop. It's the kind of shit that's resurfaced in indie music of late, where you spray-paint your own record sleeves and play shows whenever and wherever for those in need.
With a debt to Sonic Youth's feminine side, Kylin plays guitar like it's her first time, and she sings as if she's in full amazement of her voice. She's full of the kind of childish abandon where every little squeak pulsing out of the amp or the vocal mic is only there to make her face beam. Spindly guitar lines tip-toe in the air while underneath primitive drumming sounds like long lost hunting calls sent out by ancient warriors. With the sax wailing on "Shoplifting Cart," it's easy to imagine the songs by this trio being recorded in New York circa 1980, not Detroit circa 2005. Coupled with bands like the Genders, Little Claw is scratching that certain No Wave itch that's been lingering in Detroit. Thank God.
Ben Blackwell writes about music for Metro Times . Send comments to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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