“It’s the 5th of July. You’re hungover, tired, and kinda sad: This EP is built for that kind of day . This is some Yallbeat Acnepolitan songstuff. Get drunk to it, or better yet, play it when you’re near oblivion. It might help you get out of there.” –Brandon White, frontman of Cuss Words
The reversely boastful Y’all Ain’t Shit starts out drawing out that brand new, but already sepia-toned memory of the friends, the grill, the fireworks from the day before. Knowing that you had the 4th of July off, you are probably waking up from some Independence Day festivities, knowing full well you aren’t going to be able to stay in bed all day and get away with it, unless you’re Saddam [strikethrough], bin Laden [strikethrough], Karl Marx [strikethrough], Obamacare [strikethrough] A ‘murica hater. That spirit of nationalism forces you out of bed to face the sun, and even in an urban megatropolis, the Y’all Aint Shit is introductory song “Blue Blazes” has a costal melody that will turn your commie frown upside down. The tempo pushes you along, the hooks build you up for bro-hugging, summer-crush flirting, and hot-dog-eating contests that are just a few hours away.
Find your friends, your beers, get your vantage point and bask in 200+ years of being the greatest. Hey world, “Y’all Aint Shit!”
Cuss Words, Bushwick (Brooklyn)-by-way-of-Baton Rouge, has been self-described in the following ways: “grungegaze, y’allbeat, bullshit, screaming, post-punk” on their bandcamp page. Aside from creating their own descriptors, Brandon White (lead guitar, vocals, most other noises) casts a range of angst to introspection in order to serve listeners a taste of his “call you out on your bullshit” rock ‘n’ roll. He sounds like a mix of Beck and Built to Spill’s Doug Martsch, singing lazily with a low, full voice. In Y’all Aint Shit, Cuss Words often pairs piano with guitar, folk with rock. There’s even a touch of blues on the song “Hill of Eyes.”
Y’all Aint Shit is the band’s third official release. Since the beginning of the year, they’ve recorded two other EPs, a self-titled record in January and It’s Just a Game in April. The band’s roster is currently evolving (with both friends and iPads manning the beat) and Cuss Words hopes to release three more EPs before the page turns on 2012.
Back to the record. Skip through the rest of your 4th, you will barely remember it anyway, and let “Bayou Suns” cook what’s left of your marbles. When the 5th arrives, flip through the polaroids and scroll through the Instagrams; dry heave and pray for corn-no-longer-on-the-cob (small kernels are easier than meat chunks, just me on this one).
Now everyone’s gone. “Everything is broken bottles and trap doors,” sings White on the track “Dim White Walls.” The music promotes a cynic’s thoughts: Who invited those people anyways? What’s so great about this holiday? Throwing a carcass on a pile of coals and blowing stuff up? Most of the world’s hungry and most are afraid of things exploding over their heads. We’re such entitled assholes…
This record is the existential hangover. The time where you can ease down into the abyss via songs like “The Ladder,” embracing the soft pain in the overhead fluorescents and letting the music ask the questions for you.