“Holy shit!” he barked, bouncing back toward the record
player. “We’re listening to that one again!” And if he hadn’t, I
would’ve reset the needle myself.
The song playing over and over was Times New Viking’s “Teenage
Lust!” and it rang from those ratty speakers as if specifically
tailored to fit that exact moment. It was Friday night. We didn’t have
plans or girlfriends. We had beers, records, a sense of weary
displacement, and the faint glow of opportunity that long summer nights
tuck out in the distance.
Through fields of major chord fuzz and a strawberry-simple keyboard
riff, the chorus pumped blood. A boy and a girl singing in unison, “I
don’t want to die in the city alone.” It held us. And if nothing else,
at least we weren’t alone in our loneliness. But Jesus, what candy! An
absolute and total trash-thrash sugar rush—as if some magic,
life-affirming, life-extending pixie grime rained on those shitty old
cymbals, half-busted amps, and raspy old tape machines.
That was almost a year ago, and my how things have changed. Back
then the trio, from Columbus, Ohio, were putting out records for
Siltbreeze, a small Midwestern indie-obsessed with lo-fi squeal. Now
they’re a feather in Matador’s cap, label mates of Cat Power and
Stephen Malkmus. Last summer it was a DIY show here in Portland. Now
they’re trotting around Europe and headlining national tours. Live,
back at the Eagles’ Lodge last summer, it was clear the group was on to
something. They tore through a hook-laden, 20-plus-minute set with the
same ferocity and grit bursting forth that captured us in the first
place. Before you knew what had happened, it was over. And you wanted
more.
The jump to a bigger label, however, didn’t alter Times New Viking’s
overdriven, needles-in-the-red recording aesthetic. Rip it Off,
which came out in January, is 16 tracks of straightforward, bright,
teeth-gritting, badly burned, truncated pop. And although none of the
new songs quite match the pure squelching, come-together, deranged
enthusiasm of “Lust!” they all piggyback on it. Taken together, Rip
it Off is a tighter, better-written whole. And when brief, golden
pop nuggets like “Drop-Out” whiz by, you’ll be dancing back to the
stereo to do it again.