Art School Jocks
Reviewed by: Max Miller
Whenever I’m writing a review, it’s rarely the only thing I’m doing. With a full-time job, a handful of hobbies and at least the vaguest pretense of a social life, I find it essential to maximize my free time by multi-tasking. So when I’m listening to an album and trying to think about what I want to say about it, I might be cleaning out a drawer or making a meal or something along those lines. More often than not, though, I’m doing laundry.
Art School Jocks’ self-titled EP opens with “Laundry In” and closes with “Laundry Out.” The former is a recording of the mundane-yet-familiar sound of someone loading a dryer and starting it up. The latter captures the sound of clothes tumbling in a dryer before a loud buzzer signals that both the spin cycle and the EP are over. In the middle sit five short songs designed to grab the listener’s attention as quickly as possible. The Atlanta four-piece understands the omnipresent feeling of time running out — the need to throw on music in the background while completing chores — and utilizes it to instill their songs with a sense of urgency.
“Suffering Prom” doesn’t quite make it to the two-minute mark, and consists of a back-and-forth between a fast-paced garage-punk verse and a plodding half-time chorus. All four members of Art School Jocks sing, and the slower parts of this song find them layering plenty of harmonized “oooh-ahhs” behind the lead vocal’s aloof monotone.
In contrast, the first half of “Nina” forsakes vocals entirely, instead putting the focus on the interplay between guitarists Deborah Hudson and Dianna Settles as they weave grungy arpeggios over drummer Ali Bragg’s furious tom-and-snare chug. The song’s bouncy post-punk coda gives bassist Camille Lindsley a moment in the spotlight as well, as she lays down some groovy Peter Hook-esque basslines.
The EP’s centerpiece is the angry, angular “Just A Gwen.” The lyrics consist of a repeated mantra of advice given to women and femme folks on how to say safe in a world of victim-blaming, where predators and abusers too often go free. The stream of reminders to watch one’s drink, walk home with friends and keep one’s keys in hand to use as a weapon are countered by Art School Jocks’ exasperated chorus of “I want to feel comfort walking alone / I want to feel sureness / I want to be certain dark is just night.”
Art School Jocks closes with two more strong, hooky numbers, “Inside Joke” and “Catdog,” before that dryer buzzer goes off and brings us abruptly back to reality. The framing of this EP adds to its intimacy. It feels like it’s meant to be taken in all at once, through headphones while washing dishes or taking the bus to the grocery store. During its short run-time, the band manages to weigh in on serious issues while also cutting loose and having fun. The feeling is akin to the emotional roller coaster of looking at Twitter for five minutes, as bleak political news, absurdist humor and diary-like posts from friends all intermingle incongruously. The modern age feels marked by short stolen moments amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life, and Art School Jocks’ self-titled EP perfectly captures that feeling of a short, rewarding reprieve.
Rating: Bad-Ass
