Teenage Cavegirl - Candy Cigarettes
Meet Teenage Cavegirl. This is the band, not the 2004 porn-lite B-movie of the same name directed by Fred Olen Ray, and starring Jezebelle Bond as the time-traveling cave girl turned dolly-wank toy.
Teenage Cavegirl | Photo: Jeffrey Martin
Teenage Cavegirl – the band – is a trash garage rock duo from Austin, Texas, who just dropped their debut LP. It’s called Candy Cigarettes and comprises 10-tracks of raw lo-fi music. The duo is Andy Ray (guitar) and L.A. (vocals, drums), who describe their sound as “trash-pop bop with a bonehead beat.”
After dropping their They’re Gonna Get Ya EP in 2018, featuring the title track, “No Good//So Bad,” and a visceral, grinding cover of Count Five’s “Psychotic Reaction,” the duo shared the stage with Holly Golightly, The Scientists, and Fred & Toody of Dead Moon.
Now they are back with Candy Cigarettes, recorded at Big Orange Studio sans overdubbing, allowing the band’s primordial energy to come through in all its embryonic glory. The first nine-tracks were produced by Stuart Sikes, while the last track, a cover of Jimmy Hannah’s “Leavin’ Here,” was laid down under the watchful eye of Erik Camacho.
This is potent, abrading music reduced to its rudimentary essence.
Entry points on the album include “Space Girl,” opening on a grinding dirty guitar reminiscent of Johnny Rivers’ intro to “Secret Agent Man.” The stripped-down sound is raw to the point of being bloody, full of gut-wrenching buzz-saw tones, as L.A.’s skater-girl voice rides overhead, infusing the tune with Betty Boop gone badass flavors.
“Love Me” travels on a punk-lite melody flavored with hints of rockabilly, while “Area 54” conjures up memories of The B-52’s covering The White Stripes. Ray’s guitar is hypertrophically muddy, giving the tune a pulverizing mutant commie Mafioso feel, as L.A.’s vocals inject the lyrics with tight hormonal exuberance.
“Rat Fink” features grubby, oscillating, searing guitar dynamics atop a crunching, resonant rhythm. Heavy, thick, dark hues imbue the music with a kind of salacious, malicious texture.”Leavin’ Here” opens on rolling, booming drums flowing into a retro-flavored punk-charged melody full of jagged, angular edges.
Like a Slavic Barbie doll, Candy Cigarettes exudes savage sonic textures and brawny rasping surfaces. The sheer atavistic projection of Andy Ray’s guitar resembles graft-job muscle knotted like rocks, akin to dropping down a vertical gravity well full of fulminating gamma rays. This is potent, abrading music reduced to its rudimentary essence.
