Pussy Galore – NME: Shag Frenzy [Dial ‘M’ For Motherfucker Review] (PRESS, UK)

Photo: Stan Barton

SHAG FRENZY

Pussy Galore
Dial M For Motherf___er
(Product Inc LP/Cassette/CD)

IT’S QUITE rare to chance on dilettantes with palates as jaded as Pussy Galore. They’ve just about given up on everything, preferring to exist in an area where the outside world is reduced to an iridescent blur. Forget sensitive young poets yearning and aching away in dimly-lit bedsits, and try their frustrated, screwed-up angst for size.

Frustration is the key to this abstract noise-squall. Yet it’s more advanced than a 17-year-old masturbating him/herself into a frenzy over some ephemeral popstar. No, this is Big City paranoia; tempered by fear, imploding all over the place. New York City is Pussy Galore’s natural habitat and they embody all the contradictions, random violence and drug-peddling. Theirs is an amoral-stance: good etiquette and taste just don’t count.

The closest parallel that can be drawn with Pussy Galore, in terms of attitude, is with hardened, streetwise rappers. But their penchant for the abstract and the indistinct separates them from those boasters. They’re experimental with emphasis on the ‘mental’ – ‘DWDA’ is played backwards for kicks, injecting an element of psychedelia into the unpretentious stew.

Mostly songs start fizzling out, then circle in on themselves before consuming the original idea totally. If you’re an astute observer of the garage ethic you’d probably recognise many of the riffs showcased, but not in their new surroundings. Pussy Galore have always few age-old sonic mosaics into the mixer and churned around the contents until unrecognisable. And this is no different.

What’s most impressive however is ‘Dial M’s’ lack of any genuine feeling. One can draw comparisons with Kraftwek in its allegiance to mechanised emotion: synthesised ghosts without the aid of keyboards.

Everyone’s always talking about passion and commitment in rock (and this is resolutely rock, even if unhinged) but PG just erase all that guff and replace it with a fathomless abyss in their brilliant, excessive way. (8)

Dele Fadele”