My Shit Be Da Bomb

The Snacks

Thurs March 27 at Zak's.

Attentive readers will notice that the title for this week's column is a rather lame hiphop "turn of phrase" (or "rasel de parait," in fake French gibberish). It is also a painfully outdated one, inspiring recollections of Kid 'N Play and other late-'80s/early-'90s debacles, and as such, is completely unnecessary for this column. Useless and uninformative. I apologize.

Why such a title? Because I'm stalling. You see, here's the thing: The band to be written about this week only played four songs--four measly numbers, two of which were the same song. So really, said band--which, it should be mentioned, was the Snacks and not the Sissy Jerks, as was listed in this here fish wrapper--only played three songs. And each one of those three songs was about snacks. Oh, and they also handed out snacks (cookies) between songs.

So to clarify: The Snacks sang (three) songs about snacks while they handed out snacks.

Which is to say, I don't have much to write about this week. The Snacks are a joke band (evidently... nay, hopefully)--three chicks (including Lacey from locals the Charming Snakes) who like to get together and make noise. And what did said noise sound like? Being blunt: a mess. Loud and entertaining, to be sure, but a complete mess. Fucked up (to be even more blunt). The Snacks' songs are punk/a-tiny-bit-pop/a-dash-of-surf concoctions played all quick and sloppy and completely void of all seriousness, with lyrics nearly unintelligible (save for the word "snack"). The Snacks are also very, very fun--at least for the seven minutes their set lasted.

(On a further descriptive, and quite possibly enemy-creating, note: Professional music scribblers--of which, I am not--would undoubtedly describe the Snacks in a way such as this: "Like a space heater that was cranked to high and left on for three days but then dropped on the head of an elephant while it played double dutch with Helen Keller." What does that mean? The fuck if I know, but hopefully it makes you want to go see them.)

brad@thestranger.com