There are plenty of indicators that Bitchin' would herald the return of the fun and bratty Donnas of years past: the pert leather-clad ass front and center on the album cover, the band's name displayed in that wicked heavy metal font, even that purple feather sticking out of the right-hand pocket of said ass, signifying the girls releasing this record on their own label (aptly named Purple Feather Records). The title track kicking off this record delivers on those signs-- over a canned prison-break siren and backward vocals straight from a metal-is-Satan trial, the group put forth their best tough-guy rock stomp, claiming "this is what it sounds like when heads roll...and you're gonna want more." They spend the next thirteen tracks doing everything in their power to prove that claim wrong.
From the look and sounds of things, the Donnas wanted Bitchin' to be an over-the-top pop-metal album-- there are blatant nods to Joan Jett ("Don't Wait Up For Me") and Def Leppard ("Save Me"), a brief lyrical wink at post-makeup Kiss (in the title track), and loads of production flourishes that conjure images of pretty boys gussied up in tight pants and topiary-like hair structures. In this setting, the Donnas' usual talking points-- bad boys, drinking, lame boys, drinking, bars, drinking-- would seem like a perfect fit. Unfortunately, the gift of lewd gab that the group once possessed in spades (last seen on Spend the Night) is still AWOL. If you're hoping for put-downs on the level of the "Charlie Brown shirt / Cavariccis" TKO, you may as well just watch a "Will & Grace" rerun.
The record's title seems to have less to do with describing some level of awesomeness and more to do with the attitude behind whiny song-posed questions like, "What do I have to do to make you want me?" Sure, they still talk the talk, but every time the girls claim they're here for the party or they're like an animal around some guy, it sounds like they're doing an awful job of convincing their parents that they're going to the library and not the house party one town over. Brett Anderson trying to sing such sentiments, instead of using the bored growl that worked so well in the past, doesn't help matters-- she sounds great and un-Donna-like on "Love You Till It Hurts", but otherwise comes off as a pale shadow of her former glory. The songwriting, which attempts to split the difference between their humble beginnings and the stabs at relative sophistication from their last record, also needs to shoulder some of the blame. It's great that the group's gotten better at playing their instruments, but it doesn't matter how well you play if the songs you're playing are either flat rewrites of "Photograph" or just plain flat.
The entire album sounds like a half-hearted compromise between what the group was and what the group wants to become. If The Donnas fully committed to making a gloriously gaudy paean to Aquanet and spandex-- if they brought in Bob Rock or Mutt Lange (or a reasonable facsimile) to work their magic behind the boards, if they put the over-the-top flourishes (like the lion roar in "Like an Animal", or the vocoder in the intro to "Girl Talk") front and center-- I've no doubt the result would've been spectacular. If The Donnas wanted to continue refining their songcraft and follow the initial steps they took with Gold Medal, it would've been commendable (if not enjoyable). Instead, their attempts to take leaps forward without forgetting their roots just leaves The Donnas going nowhere. Instead of coming off like the girls that know what's what, the Donnas now sound like the wanna-bes they used to love to hate.
