Sep 6, 2007
- 1 Welcome to Daytrotter
- 2 Other Girls
- 3 Untitled
- 4 Graz
- 5 Red Lips
Damn Right There Are Claws - Dancing Claws
Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Sound engineering by Brad Kopplin
The other night on Nightline, there was this very boring newscaster standing outside the Des Moines state capital building - because we can't keep any of the presidential candidates away from here with Iowa jumping the gun on everyone and staging its primary in December -- and he was introducing a story about women all across the country taking pole-dancing classes to get in shape and get in touch with that valuable side of their sexual personalities. We were told that this was so very fucking hot in suburbia (isn't that everywhere now?) and the boring man signed off by saying, "It's a sign of the times."
Ladies, there's an easier way to tighten up those tummies and to feel scandalous. Fellows, if you're looking for a way to get a visible two-pack, if nothing else, there's a new methodology in town in the form of Brooklyn's Tigercity. The four-piece is strictly forbidden for any child younger than the age of 18, for fear of a population explosion. You will feel a force that make whatever seat cushions you're resting on feel like they were made of pure wool and electricity. You will not be able to rest for long. You will be dancing in the streets, on the ceilings - uncontrollably discombobulated and separated from all inhibitions. The desire for riding the rhythm as you would a raging bull or a Harley, choppering away with a healthy, guttural humping.
It's a new form of salvation that makes foreheads bead with sweet, sticky sweat and desire get the best of you. Dance music isn't all hip-hop or Junior Senior. It doesn't have to be Scissor Sisters or B52s to make a body jitterbug. For all of those numbskulls who dismiss Hall & Oates as that 80's band with the guy with a mustache - is it Hall, is it Oates you ask your friends incessantly? - you should take a good, long look in the mirror and then burn a white-hit stare through their reflection's naÃ¯ve and unsubstantiated claim.
Tigercity can and will gladly give you the resources to provide to all of those reflections to set them straight. They were influential in such rich and lasting ways, plus they made it so we could think about maneaters and discuss that early detection of them is better than having to say you're sorry. Tigercity, led by the scepter sharp vocals of Bill Gillim, does not put the foxes on a podium as dangerous barbarians and heart busters, ready to pile drive men into hard, concrete surfaces should they get out of line or just meekly submit.
They are giving us the guy's version of Beyonce's "Irreplaceable," the don't ever think for a second that there aren't three girls out there twice as good as you lady. It's not bawdy talk or exposing one's idea of disposableness in other people, just an irresistible lineup of silvery guitar and assured lyrics that don't go all pussy at the drop of a hat. Sure, love is good, but at what cost? Should we use H&O's H2O or Voices as realistic appropriations of their general manners toward women, they got played for suckers a bunch of times. Tigercity are not tough, no they're not. They're friendly and rather gentlemanly, but they are not chumps. Listen for it. It's there.
Click here to visit Tigercity's myspace page.