Punk. Bits of ska. Three chords. Sometimes melodic, sometimes not. That there is ten words, and they're almost all I have to say about Coquettish's seven-song, nine-minute Total Pops Madness EP. It's okay hardcore punk, nothing special. And yet, I must go on. So I'm just going to lay some random impressions on you. Forgive me if I jump around.
To their credit, Coquettish do write relatively catchy songs, with upstroke guitar surges perfect for pogoing, and 80s-inspired chorus hooks chanted by the entire band. The energy is there and is somewhat infectious, and you can feel yourself rooting for the band as the guitars sometimes struggle to keep up with the drums and vice-versa.
Still, I have to say that my favorite bits on Total Pops Madness are the brief introductions and interludes that are placed between the "real" songs. "My Favorite Tune" opens with a charming, melodic fuzzpop riff before the drummer decides he's had enough and kicks the tune into blistering hardcore mode. "How Many Boys Do You See" is 35-seconds long-- the first 26 of which are almost roots-style reggae. That's the part I like. The final nine seconds I could live without.
It's funny: the first few times through Total Pops Madness, I'd resigned myself to not being able to understand a single word of the lyrics. "Is this even English?" I asked myself. I had kind of hoped I was listening to some overseas punk, but the lyrics sounded close to English somehow (if not quite there). Normally, I'm not overly concerned with lyrical content, but something about the intensity of the screaming made me think the words might be important. I listened closer but still couldn't make out nothing, so I just chalked it up to speed-fueled punk energy and left it at that. Later, I looked at the CD booklet and realized that Coquettish are a four-piece unit from Yokohama, Japan, who do indeed sing in English, but with poor diction. Mystery solved.
Listening to Total Pops Madness, I understood why Punk Planet's reviews have been such a joke since Issue #1. Could it be that there's just not much to say about most of the punk records released? When you're dealing with music created according to such a rigid formula (how ironic that a punk might describe chart pop as "formulaic!"), spending words describing the smallest details that separate one record from the next seems futile. Better to pour one's energy into a 15,000-word Marxist rant about why Wal-Mart is so evil, despite the fact that the proletariat from coast to coast wants nothing more than to drip sweat on her endless linoleum floors. Um, actually, I've started to leave Punk Planet on the rack. Next to the punk rock.
