There’s the references with friends, right? The inside jokes. The glib comments only your inner circle knows to find funny. A real rocks and dirt moment- sorry, that’s one of mine.
There’s another level too. The inside jokes you have with yourself. Sometimes you’re the only one who sees the strange roadside billboard or hears the radio DJ mispronounce a word. Due to circumstance you’re the only one who knows. I find this happens to me a lot with songs. Lyrics I mishear that become a running punch line inside my head. A particularly goofy bass riff that loops around my brain when a mall cop walks into a sandwich board or my coworker knocks their coffee across their desk. This tendency is what lead me to ‘won’t you call up Theresa May’.
Wrong order at a restaurant? ‘Won’t you call up Theresa May’.
Missed my train? ‘Won’t you call up Theresa May’.
Cut off in traffic? ‘Won’t you call up Theresa May’.
Not funny out of context, sure. Let’s give you context then.
Girls Like Us are a trio from the U.K., specializing in angry, honest, punk rock. Off the back of successful singles (including a searing cover of Hole’s ‘Pretty On The Inside’) is the release of their first EP- Bitter ‘Til The Bitter End.
Album opener ‘Song of the Wytches’ crashes in with a Shakespearean chant a la Macbeth, punctuated by sharp drums and a buzzing guitar. Clocking in it at barely over a minute, the track manages to articulate a ripping sense of rage to set the scene for the EP. ‘Toothache’ feels like an early Skating Polly song with heavy overdrive and the clash of saccharine sweet and sardonically scornful lyrics. The depth and ire of the way vocalist Amelia delivers the line ‘And I hope that you wish, you were fucking dead’ is enough to make anyone quake in their boots.
Here it is, by the way. The thesis statement of this album, but, more importantly, the loop that keeps running around my head. The ‘won’t you call up Theresa May’ bit. ‘My Boyfriend Was A Tory (So I Broke Up With Him)’ carries the heft and witticisms of a Pulp-esque class anthem with the rage of any anarcho-punk band you care to name. Pounded out vocals and blazing guitar join a sticky bassline and unflappable drums on the breakup revenge imaginings and political commentary of the track. Half way through you’ll find it: ‘wanted me to give him head/ I said I'd rather end up dead/ won't you call up Theresa May/ to suck your dick all fucking day’. I won’t pretend I was mature about that line. It’s fucking funny- what can I say? So now I’m delegated to a life of walking and, about once a week, muttering ‘won't you call up Theresa May’. I guess there’s worse fates in the world.
Vocals shine on ‘High Pressure’; a feminist dirge about the pressures of male attention (and malice) with a grungey guitar riff throughout. If you want to mosh, crank up ‘School’. A solid, thrashing guitar with heavy drums and pleasantly scratchy vocals reminiscent of The Distillers. ‘Hair (Haven’t We Been Here Before?)’ sounds like a modern day tribute to Bikini Kill, laden with sneering lyrics and a timely reference to Barbie. Album closer, and previous single, ‘Spoonfed’ is a rally against the unfair treatment of the middle and lower class. Buried vocals tear out of heavy effects and an overall buzz that gets under your skin. Drums rip into your ears alongside a thrumming bass. The song makes you clench your teeth, and fists, against the world.
It’s riot grrrl, it’s punk, it’s grunge, it’s angry. If rage without restraint (and with searing guitar) is your thing, then Bitter ‘Til the Bitter End is sure to entertain. If you don’t like it? Well, why don’t you call up Theresa May?
