Lovvers – OCD Go Go Go Girls

Lovvers

“That sounds like it was knocked up in a shed” is a favourite phrase of my Dad’s and I’d be inclined to use it when describing Lovvers’ debut record.

‘Human Hair’, from 2008’s Think EP, features on this long-player which was recorded in Portland, Oregon, a favourite haunt of fellow Wichita labelmates The Cribs. The previous incarnation of ‘Human Hair’ offers a bit more freshness and depth than the new version retains the stuffy claustrophobia that runs through OCD Go Go Go Girls. Although they are a very, very different prospect to The Cribs, who they supported on live dates last year, Lovvers do have similar reference points: the Jarman brothers’ beloved The Replacements being an obviously erratic one.

The bass-drum heavy intro to ‘Creepy Crawl’, mashed with a guitar hook that wouldn’t sound out of place on Clash On Broadway and a Jagger-pulsing chorus, make for a bit of a false start. I really wanted to love this record but it soon becomes apparent that it’s hollow and rather repetitive. I imagine that the album would sound far more vital when performed live, as thoughts trail elsewhere beyond the muffled vocals and classic rock tempo. ‘OCD Go Go Girls’ is probably the best track on the album, with a little bit more going on than the usual strum-strum-strum-strum-crash that glues the record together. ‘I Want To (Go)’ has an opening (and a title) that sounds oddly like Maximo Park, and it’s this sore thumb of an oddity that makes it another of the better tracks.

The album’s lyrics are largely indecipherable, which rightly or wrongly leads me to believe that singer Shaun Hencher has nothing important to say. His vocals are so heavily masked that often you can’t tell whether it’s a person or a kazoo ringing the tune; on ‘Golden Bars Blue’ he sounds like Chewbacca from Star Wars. As a stylistic idea it’s more than enough to make them stand out but it doesn’t lend much to listeners who are after something more than background fuzz.

All of that is fair enough, but when combined with little more than a pastiche of the Sex Pistols’ nodding punk cadences and the bluesy fug of the Rolling Stones, Lovvers’ fare becomes tired and bleary-eyed. On the plus side, there’s some interesting guitar work and the occasional hidden cutesy melody, but sadly it’s a disappointing effort from the usually reliable Wichita label. The focus on this record does seem to be leaving, but unfortunately I can’t work out what Lovvers are trying to get away from.

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