[12.02] I'm quite the lucky reviewer today. Sitting here with a copy of the Coachwhips' Get Yer Body Next Ta Mine couldn't be a more auspicious event; it appears my writerly task coincides with my recent discovery of these guys. Due to a good friend's favorable nod, I caught the band last month at one of Potrero Hill's finer hot spots. That show was impressive, but lordy if I wasn't lucky enough to catch their next appearance at The Parkside. With their righteous punk spew fresh upon the cells, that evening upped the ante in the boogie on down sweepstakes. Beer was flyin', cell phones were smashed and the kids couldn't stop dancing. Billy Childish jamming with Question Mark & The Mysterians on Dick Clark's sick day would be a fair approximation.

So here we have the record. First off, I'm pleased to report they manage to duplicate their live sound on record! The madcap method here is fine-tuned, no-fi garage rock with a keen eye to distort most everything in the mix. My favorite element is John Dwyer's vocals; he wields a microphone fashioned of duct tape and static. Dwyer's guitar playing is equally delightful, never straying far from basic power chord mayhem. Coupled with the organist's organ and the drummer's sensible use of the kit that has no name, optimum traction is achieved.

Lyric wise, most of these tunes appear to be paeans to that old guy/gal dialectic. It really doesn't matter though just as long as the goods are good. In this instance, they are better than good. "Like Food, It Feeds" is a stone cold rocker no matter what your stylistic predilection. Tracks like "1000 Years" and "Yes I'm Down" realize the beauty inherent in grinding out a few notes on the keyboard and "My Baby, I Killed Her" is a two chord beauty. The title track is a swell summary of all the above. Consider this a glowing review.

Check out these guys (and gal) now or be told later you weren't there. The Coachwhips are a great little band with a truly trashy sound. Yes! —Jefferson Marshall