Fast, fun feminism in bite sized bits
Tacocat is a quartet of four Seattle friends who take 90s revivalism and push it through the lens of the 2000s to yield for you a quick witted, slightly surfed-out pop-punk program. Founded organically in 2007 via the everyday interactions most of us take for granted, Emily Nokes (vocals, tambourine), Eric Randall (guitar), Lelah Maupin (drums) and Bree McKenna (bass) create sticky bubblegum pop and modest, surfy punk inspired by everyday Seattle life, Sci-Fi, fat cats and The X-Files. If Le Tigre and Damone had a baby, Tacocat is it.
Actively called on for their feminist outlook, Tacocat’s label Hardly Art puts things into a pristine perspective: “One of the weirdest things humans do is to classify half of all humans as niche. As though women’s shit isn’t real shit—as though menses and horses and being internet-harassed aren’t as interesting as beer-farts and monster trucks and doing the harassing. That’s why Tacocat is radical: not because a female-driven band is some baffling novelty, but because they’re a group making art about experiences in which gender is both foregrounded and neutralized. This isn’t lady stuff, it’s people stuff. It’s normal. It’s nothing and everything. It’s life.” With the release of third album Lost Time, Tacocat talks life in bite sized bits that showcase a seamless marriage between wit and solid musicianship, dripping with fun and a bang-on sense of humor. Having recently opened for the Bernie Sanders rally at Safeco Field the day before the Washington caucus and with the rebooted Powerpuff Girls theme under their belt, Tacocat is on a trajectory highly unique to their off-brand art.
Opening with “Dana Katherine Scully,” Lost Time kicks off to a peppy start with an ode to one half of the iconic alien chasing duo, penning lyrics like “Cause she’s the only one / thinking it through / she’s got the shoulder pads / no nonsense attitude,” creating a set of expectations the album will follow to a delightful T. “FDP” (First Day Period) is an all too relatable back-off anthem in the vein of Le Tigre’s “TKO,” while “I Love Seattle” explores the apocalyptic idea of ‘The Big One’ finally washing Seattle into the sea, with Nokes crooning “There’ still no place I’d rather be.”
“I Hate The Weekend” is the catchy single released off Lost Time, a track with a solid melody and sweet vocals that pair perfectly with crashing drums while “You Can’t Fire Me, I Quit” is a break up song at its best, with pearly vocals that trill with sweetness while maintaining a firm direction and crisp delivery. Lost Time has this in spades, running a gamut of talking points that read like a chat you might have with your best friend. This unassuming conversational tone is showcased perfectly with “The Internet,” a metallic track about the reviled comment section in every dusty corner of the web and with “Horse Grrls,” a song about exactly what you’d expect. If anyone out there can recall the quintessential high school horse girl you may also remember that sometimes they also trained seeing-eye dogs and they most certainly hated you. I know this because my mom was a horse girl and she was pissed at everybody.
Lost Time is a solid, spot on effort with tighter production than predecessor NVM and a striking singularity that is simultaneously universal. Take yourself a little less seriously and take Lost Time for a spin.