Idolator has recently offered a spate of posts recalling the 90s, and I’m increasingly convinced I was watching another decade entirely from ’90-’00. Not to slag their recollections. There’s nothing wrong with exhuming Jawbreaker, but there’s also nothing novel or earth-shattering about recalling them, either, at least not in the sense of holy shit, how could we have forgotten jawbreaker? No one forgot them. They were fairly well-known, even successful, in their time. I vaguely recall they scored one of the first few major contracts that afforded them creative control of everything (except their internecine band politics) [I think you mean Jawbox, but same difference. –Ed’s note.]
In the 90s, I was often excited about bands I’ve forgotten myself, by now, especially my mistakes (Capsize 7 comes to mind). On the other hand, I’ve been hollering about Chavez since 1995, and it was finally fun to see them get the hero treatment last year.
It’s also time to use this blog more often for the forces of good or, if I’m at least going to cheerlead something, it’ll of course be an act that can never possibly offer me the opportunity to sell out to some publicist when the next album comes around. At least not to someone giving out free laptops.
We can start with Star Pimp, an outfit who, if you will imagine it, slid bottom-heavy sludge bass beneath antipodal vocal melodies, alike to Kristin Hersh if she fronted Jesus Lizard. To you youngsters, I mean to say Emily Haines fronting Pissed Jeans (ah, there’s an image … never mind).
There’s little on the web about Star Pimp, and my review from the mid-nineties was in that extinct medium known as print, but I did find a page that explains their mostly contentious existence and their recent activities, from filmmaking to teaching third grade.
They may be worth no more than the album I own, 199–‘s Seraphim280z (they only made one other), yet, in the long run, that’s still better than making seven worthless albums under the name Smashing Pumpkins.
Songs often began with wacko samples & loops of things culled from classic rock or soft rock radio, so please do not fret if you hear what you believe to be wrong. “Titty” was better than I think even they knew, an uncharacteristically poppy nugget. “Size Zero” was less anachronistic. Not sure what she’s singing about, but from the titles, it wasn’t exactly for boys. Which is good.