Potty Mouth don't shake the foundation of guitar rock, but they do inject it with attitude, playing the Ladyfest-aligned basement scene while also transcending it. Dreamt up at women's-only Smith College, in Northampton, Mass., bassist Ally Einbinder and drummer Victoria Mandanas had already played the punk scene, allowing Potty Mouth a driving energy, while Phoebe Harris, also a visual artist, didn't own a guitar. Abby Weems, a recent high school grad, fronts the band with deceptively simple lyrical play-- her Liz Phair-style monotone is clear and literal, underscoring the direct quality of their pop-punk poetry. At times the guitars weave like early ramshackle post-punk, but Potty Mouth's upbeat surf fuzz could be likened to any number of fast, barebones 70s and 90s punk bands who were learning as they went. You could imagine them covering Buzzcocks, Jawbreaker, or maybe Excuse 17.
With that, Potty Mouth are among a crop of bands expanding the idea of "pop-punk" in 2013-- see Don Giovanni and Salinas Records' back catalogues for other recent examples-- disassociating the mind-numbing skate-and-weed culture that has often surrounded that descriptor. The difference was well exemplified this spring, when Potty Mouth and the likeminded Aye Nako played within the bright gallery walls of New York's New Museum.
Hell Bent inches Potty Mouth towards more profound songwriting than last year's great Sun Damage EP. The lyrics focus primarily on the many facets of what it means to be young-- desire to ditch smalltown life, irresponsible choices that bring on "The Spins," feeling infinite-- but what makes Hell Bent such a glorious Rookie-era superlative of feminist punk today is the sense of confidence and personal conviction Potty Mouth's songs conjure. This appears most strongly as Hell Bent opens and closes. "The Gap", which references the unconventional post-high school gap year, is about searching for more than you've been handed and believing in yourself. The slow-building closer "The Better End", shout-sung by guitarist Phoebe Harris, reconciles a bitter breakup ("Go ahead/ Kiss your friend") while feeling assertive in walking away: "Here's the thing/ I'm the best," Harris screams, "I know it's hard/ To digest."
More often than not, though, the songs on Hell Bent center on confusion, uncertainty, and frustration within contexts like friendship, identity, or dreaming. "Damage" charges forward with the grey melancholy and earnestness of early emo, as Weems grapples with feeling helpless in a dire situation. On "Sleep Talk", she fears what might seep into her subconscious at night-- "I have this feeling that I'll wake up and wanna talk to you"-- coasting over one of the record's best hooks. "Shithead", meanwhile, is an angsty reprieve, as Weems hollers funny disses at a seemingly boy-crazed ex-friend-- "You're possessed by a dick/ And your mind's in a ditch"-- like fellow Western Mass resident Kim Gordon's suggestion on Sonic Youth classic "Becuz", but entirely unkind, and largely unforgiving.
“Black and Studs” is the best Potty Mouth song yet-- a commentary on searching for your own essence within a punk subculture where individuals still tend to conform in certain ways. "What happened to you to make you wear black and studs?" Weems sings, before turning this exceedingly catchy question onto herself, with airy echoes harmonized underneath. Although "Black and Studs" is the band's only song to get critical on punk politics, it feels like a potent extension of an overarching idea that guides Potty Mouth-- in interviews, they've been vocal about the values they aim to incorporate into the makeup of their band, as well as the ageism and sexism they've faced. In doing so, Potty Mouth have functioned under the golden rule of writing songs in relatively simple structures while keeping the narrative of their band strong.
Potty Mouth also hail from an exciting moment for smart guitar rock in their collegiate hometown-- along with Speedy Ortiz (spot frontwoman Sadie Dupuis in the video for "The Spins") and California X, they're doing a fine job romanticizing Northampton, leaving 20-somethings everywhere wondering if they'd not be better off enrolling in Amherst's grad school and plugging in without looking back. Hell Bent, while elemental, sounds sincere and grounded but free-- a self-assured debut of principled pop-punk that leaves room for growth.
