Whip - Don't Call Me EP (Electric Heat)
Whip – Don’t Call Me (Electric Heat Records) 7” EP
Winnipeg’s Whip is one of those bands that have the feel of classic hardcore, but ultimately just embody a firmly aggressive interpretation of punk’s initial modus operandi. The kind of stuff we can simply call punk, no qualifiers or diluted adjectives required. Nonetheless, there’s more than just raw intent to these precise, well-crafted maulings. Whip exhibits the same carefree, unbridled belligerence as earliest Red Kross stuff, but if we’re to analogize with female-fronted groups of yesteryear they seem more in the spirit of an abrasiveness-added Kleenex with their blunt artiness, than California counterparts like SIN 34.
This is strong, belligerent and highly enjoyable. Whip’s EP sounds like a contemporary basement might, replete with displeased vocals and scraped-against-concrete guitar. Sounds like the platonic ideal of the band you’d never heard of but played with on your tour and their singer spat in some dickhead’s face mid-set and now everyone’s wearing their shirt. This record eschews anything longer than two minutes in a manner leaving you uncertain as to whether that’s because long songs are a patriarchal construct or are just plain boring.
Whip – Don’t Call Me (Electric Heat Records) 7” EP
Winnipeg’s Whip is one of those bands that have the feel of classic hardcore, but ultimately just embody a firmly aggressive interpretation of punk’s initial modus operandi. The kind of stuff we can simply call punk, no qualifiers or diluted adjectives required. Nonetheless, there’s more than just raw intent to these precise, well-crafted maulings. Whip exhibits the same carefree, unbridled belligerence as earliest Red Kross stuff, but if we’re to analogize with female-fronted groups of yesteryear they seem more in the spirit of an abrasiveness-added Kleenex with their blunt artiness, than California counterparts like SIN 34.
This is strong, belligerent and highly enjoyable. Whip’s EP sounds like a contemporary basement might, replete with displeased vocals and scraped-against-concrete guitar. Sounds like the platonic ideal of the band you’d never heard of but played with on your tour and their singer spat in some dickhead’s face mid-set and now everyone’s wearing their shirt. This record eschews anything longer than two minutes in a manner leaving you uncertain as to whether that’s because long songs are a patriarchal construct or are just plain boring.
Whip – Don’t Call Me (Electric Heat Records) 7” EP
Winnipeg’s Whip is one of those bands that have the feel of classic hardcore, but ultimately just embody a firmly aggressive interpretation of punk’s initial modus operandi. The kind of stuff we can simply call punk, no qualifiers or diluted adjectives required. Nonetheless, there’s more than just raw intent to these precise, well-crafted maulings. Whip exhibits the same carefree, unbridled belligerence as earliest Red Kross stuff, but if we’re to analogize with female-fronted groups of yesteryear they seem more in the spirit of an abrasiveness-added Kleenex with their blunt artiness, than California counterparts like SIN 34.
This is strong, belligerent and highly enjoyable. Whip’s EP sounds like a contemporary basement might, replete with displeased vocals and scraped-against-concrete guitar. Sounds like the platonic ideal of the band you’d never heard of but played with on your tour and their singer spat in some dickhead’s face mid-set and now everyone’s wearing their shirt. This record eschews anything longer than two minutes in a manner leaving you uncertain as to whether that’s because long songs are a patriarchal construct or are just plain boring.