Annie Hardy says things like “My dick sucks”, “You’re full of shit” and “You fuck like my Dad”, but looks and sounds like butter wouldn’t only not melt in her mouth, but would be so relaxed by the vibrations of her larynx that it would revert to milk. And Micah Calabrese, well, he’s a drummer so he doesn’t say much, not giving butter any kind of opportunity at all to change state. So there you go. The hyperactive, giddy angelic front woman, and the strong silent drummer. Together, they make beautiful music.
Pfnar. Pfnar. Except, minds out the gutter, not like *that*. Beautiful music in the original, you know literal sense, not the Oooh Err Missus, Carry On double-entendre interpretation.
Actually, perhaps beautiful is the wrong word. Better is adorable. Yeah, above all else Hearts And Unicorns is an adorable album, an album you’d be proud to take home to meet the parents, even if you kind of suspect that halfway through the big sit-down meal it would probably belch horribly, called your mum a slag and then scratched itself unashamedly for about half an hour.Which, somehow, makes it even more adorable. And when it’s dreamily floating along on a gossamer thread dangling from Kim Deal’s coattails (Slayer), getting snottier, smarter and grungier than Courtney Love has managed in a decade or more (Everything Worse), or dragging The Sundays backwards through a hedge on You’re Full Of Shit (Check Out My Sweet Riffs), Giant Drag utterly rule.
Plus, should it have gone to shit elsewhere, they’ve always got Kevin Is Gay to fall back on. So come on, all together now “Threeeee-sixxxty-fiiiiive! Seven-fifteeeeeeen!!”; as instantaneous brilliant as an pop-up bouncy castle, and twice as springy.
It’s really hard to find things anything wrong with it. Alright, that’s not strictly accurate, it’s far from a flawless record, but when it comes to actually raising some objections towards it, you just can’t bring yourself to. Because should you moan about this or complain about that, it would be so cruel. I mean, look at it. Look! Awwww. Isn’t it cute?
No? Fine. You cruel, heartless bastard. Driven to criticise, Pretty Little Neighbor maybe strays a little to close to Placebo for comfort. But that’s it. And if Balding Brian hadn’t spoiled it for all the bands who followed that wanted to sound like that, then it wouldn’t even be an issue. So it’s his fault, nothing at all to do with Giant Drag.
And in the end, it still gets five stars. Because who could bear the thought of explaining to them why it shouldn’t?