The 'Days Between Stations' columns, Interview magazine 1992-2008: All Girl Summer Fun Band
March 2002
With 13 songs in 27 minutes, the All Girl Summer Fun Band—"four best friends" on drums, bass and guitars from Portland, Oregon—sound like they know at least as much about fun as anyone else in the country. Almost every tune on their recently released All Girl Summer Fun Band (K Records) features one part of the band pulling the rug out from under another or out from under the listener, or whoever the singers are singing about.
"Cut Your Hair" (what the singer won't have to do for her boyfriend anymore, now that he's with his “Australian boar") couldn't be more bitter—on paper. A young woman with a clear, high voice rides a cheesy organ whoosh. She tries to be cruel, but it doesn't work: "Thought of you both on your knees" turns into "rearranging all her CDs." She's full of self-pity: "Hey, where's some good food in this town?" someone asks her. "I wouldn't know," she says. "I can't keep anything down." The response from the rest of the band, her sisters, her best friends, on her side, is always the same: "La la la la la la la la la la la la la la."
Kathy Foster, Kim Baxter, Ari Douangpanya, and Jen Sbragia sing and play as if one day they woke up to find themselves in a world composed of equal parts Bikini Kill and camp sing-alongs, northwest feminist noise and 40-year-old doo-wop singles. Think of Connie Stevens' "Sixteen Reasons" and Linda Scott's "I've Told Every Little Star" as mimed so glamorously for the audition scenes in David Lynch's Mulholland Drive—with the prom-queen gowns replaced by sweatshirts and jeans. There's Shangri-Las flash in every "dit dit dit doo" chorus in "Stumble Over My"; there's West Coast casual in the way the four never get around to what they're stumbling over.
They fool around. "Car Trouble" begins with dialogue: "So I guess I'll see you around?" a girl says confidently. "I'll see you when I see you," a guy says, as if he means, "If I can't get someone else to fuck." The singer proceeds to complain that not only has her heart been broken, her car won't start. "A real piece of shit," she says, as if nothing has ever been truer, whether it's him, the car or both she's talking about. "Cutie Pie"—"Ooh wee ooh cutie pie, sigh sigh sigh"—is as complete as such punk black holes as Flipper's "Sex Bomb" or Trio's "Da Da Da," neither of which had to bother with more than a word or two beyond their titles to lay claim to perfection. "Cell Phone" is about "The oldest cell phone in the world / Heavy as a brick with a cord that curls," but it works OK when she's talking to her boyfriend; beyond bass and drums the music is all dreamy interference sounds. In "New in Town" they play with automatic lines: "He must be new in town / I've never seen him before / Except for yesterday and the day before." It's a a bet they can fly on a feather.
All in their twenties, the women in the band use the happy, unscarred teenage sound of their voices and a quick, simple beat to play tricks with words. In "Later Operator" they step forward in turn to proclaim the jerkiness of their respective boyfriends: one's cheap, one never talks, one collects surfer magazines, one spends too much time on his scooter. But with voices breaking, tempos slipping and the feel of a performance falling somewhere between charades and people giggling as they walk down the street, in every case the singer reaches the same conclusion: "But he's a damn good—” "Later operator!" answers the chorus, wrapping up the singer's testament with its first syllable.
In James Toback's 1978 film Fingers, Harvey Keitel's Jimmy carries a boom box all over New York, playing the Jamies' "Summertime, Summertime" with snow on the ground—"The most musically inventive song of 1958!" he snarls at a businessman in a restaurant who wants him to turn the thing off. Everything Portland's four best friends want is in that record: The promise of something new, a reason to get up in the morning. "Whoever heard of someone walking around playing 'Summertime, Summertime' when it's 15 fucking degrees below zero?" says Michael V. Gazzo, playing Jimmy's father. It's winter now; the All Girl Summer Fun Band have released their first album, which says winter is where you find it, and you won't find it here.
Originally published in Interview Magazine, March 2002
I remember seeing Fingers when it was out in theaters in the late 70's. Keitel was great, as usual, and Michael V. Gazzo, who stole Godfather II (Bring the peppers and sauseech!) was excellent. Tisa Farrow, Mia's sister, was in it as was Jim Brown.
Nice Piece--it is fun, and you do a great job in conveying the feel of the eras and songs and films.