“Our lead singer hates you.” This was the second time in the
past week that Bree from TacocaT had told me as much. The first
was at Season of the Witch, her DJ night at Moe Bar, on the night of
the Long Blondes show at Neumo’s. It’s kind of an endearing thing to
hear, in a weird way, especially coming both times in an almost
apologetic, almost gravely warning tone. This second time, we were at a
house party on Capitol Hill, in a house that, years ago, a bunch of my
friends lived in. In one of the first sure signs of summer, it was
actually warm enough for people to be comfortable outside, for
the cold kegs of beer to be actually refreshing rather than just
hand-numbing. Party rappers Mad Rad were playing inside. The
cops had already come and gone. There was, briefly, a rumor that
Japanther might hop on the bill.
For their set at the house party, TacocaT played maybe a half-dozen
songs (all the bands were playing short sets to accommodate an
overbooked bill in the face of noise complaints). Most recognizable
were TacocaT’s covers of Bikini Kill‘s “Carnival,” complete with
spoken intro delivered verbatim, and the Replacements‘ “Beer for
Breakfast.” Both sounded great as far as covers go, sloppy and raucous
and tight in all the right places; TacocaT make about a hundred times
more sense in the unsoundproofed living room of a house party than they
do at a nightclub. Yeah, they look and sound a lot like Bikini
Kill—three grrrls and one dude, covers of Riot Grrrl anthems
(“Carnival” as well as Huggy Bear‘s incendiary “Herjazz”). But
they also have something of the B-52s genial party-hosting
goofiness to them, not so much visually or sonically, but in
attitude.
Here’s the thing: I don’t hate TacocaT. I just wish they were
more than a goofy, house-party cover band. I want them to go from
covering righteous punk anthems to writing some of their own, to take
the style and sass they pull off so well and back it up with some
substance. What’s the point of playing Riot Grrrl anthems without any
of that movement’s urgency or radical manifestos?
I guess the point is that it’s fun. Covers are fun because
people—lots of people, drunk people—know them and will sing
or dance along. Seattle needs goofy, party-rocking punk bands as much
as anything. Maybe I should just be happy that Riot Grrrl is enough a
part of the common indie-rock lexicon to make a band like
TacocaT happen. Still, it’s just hard to get fully behind a band whose
most memorable original number is about urinary tract infections. Don’t
hate. 