Seattle has always been a place that spits out genre-defining musicians and bands. Nirvana. Hendrix. Modest Mouse. Ray Charles. But over the last 10 years or so, thereâs been a rise in catchy feminist pop-punk – and part of that reason could be Seattle natives Tacocat.
Back in 2007, Tacocat found the quickest way to make yourself noticeable in a sea of generic garage jock-rock bands was to be the complete opposite. Fun, catchy, pop-rock stuck out like a sore thumb and built them a loyal and devoted fanbase.
Fast forward to 2019 and the release of their fourth album, âThis Mess Is A Placeâ. The previous 12 years may have tightened them, but it hasnât removed any of their sensibilities. The snark and hooks are still there in abundance, and while it might be slightly lighter on witticisms (donât worry â theyâre still there), politics takes a more prominent role.
Waking up the morning after the presidential election in 2016, the pressing question for Tacocat was how to deal with a reality where evil isnât hiding under the surface, but is now front and centre. While that might give it a dense feeling, they manage to meld the shitty realities with their trademark bright, energetic sound to create a vibrant and uplifting album.
Opening with âHologramâ â the record’s second single – youâre hit by the harmonies and bubblegum melodies that stick throughout the whole album, a cornerstone sound that theyâre really developed into their own. Written about manmade social structures and conformity, the track is a reminder to see the bigger picture. Vocalist Emily Nokes sings through the chorus âjust close your eyes and think about the Milky Way / just remember if you can, power is a hologramâ, prompting the thought that while we may be a small insignificant part of the world, self care is important.
A theme that follows into lead single âGrains Of Saltâ, the most notable line comes near the end of the track. As Nokes sings âdonât forget to remember who the fuck you areâ, the upbeat melodies and rousing drumbeats â provided by guitarist Eric Randall and drummer Lelah Maupin respectively – are held tightly by Bree McKennaâs Pixies-esque driving bass line. Positively buoyant despite the harsh nature of the lyrical content, itâs a real lesson in janglepop from seasoned pros.
âNew Worldâ looks at what the planet could be. No ugly buildings, no paperwork, no parking tickets. A reflection of current environmental issues, itâs a plea to create a better world, a ânew shining planetâ. Similar in vein is âCrystal Ballâ, a jaunty sing-a-long track with some of the wittiest lines on the album. âTruth spread so thin it stops existingâ is delivered with such snark it pops right out, only to be followed by the chorus line âwhat a time to be barely aliveâ. Itâs cynical and cutting, whilst maintaining their feelgood sound.
While there might be some denser, thought-provoking tracks, there are definite moments of levity throughout. âMeet Me At La Palmaâ relives a night at a Tiki bar â a place with âpictures of palm trees where no palm trees ever grownâ while âLittle Friendâ goes into the unexplainable love for our pets (something this writer can appreciate), the lighter moments are made to feel even sweeter.
Fun, syrupy, and peppered with their charismatic cynical humour, Tacocat have released an album that shines through the bleakness of society with light, jangly pop punk. If this is the way the world ends, it wonât be with a bang or a whimper. Itâll be with Tacocat watching on, making light of it all whilst sipping banana daiquiris.
ANDY JOICE