”You never understood me”.
”I’m off to my bedroom to write poetry and smoke myself into a stupor”.
”Beer! Pizza! Now!”
Ah, teenagers. That most maligned of the species. Full of hormones, angst, unanswered questions and as raw as a slapped face.
This debut album by Madrid’s lo-fi indie quartet Hinds will, depending on your age, make you feel young and giddy, or remind you of such fraught and exciting / miserable times, when the world owed you nothing but you needed everything, and all of those desires bubbling away under the surface felt confusing and directionless.
Like a punkier spin on 60s girl-group, their garage guitars and yelled vocals are always on the brink of collapse, which is exactly as it should be. There is no polish, poise or perfection here, which makes them at once anomalous and utterly endearing, when record companies seem to consistently demand marketable pop trinkets, fit for box-ticking.
Carlotta Cosials’ lead vocals feel almost ready to burst through sheer euphoria,whereas Ana Perrote sings more sweetly, and Amber Grimbergen’s drums are the very definition of ”a teenage rampage”.
That immediacy is what makes them so appealing. In an identikit pop world, where women pout and bend over in soft focus, and men are bad-asses, stewing in their own machismo, Hinds just don’t fit. They spit beer, wear baggy T shirts and don’t care if they’re a bit of a hot mess. And, as each of these rowdy, frenetic songs attest, that’s absolutely fine.If there’s a pinch of vulnerability too, that’s also okay. Hinds are self-aware enough to know they’re constantly changing.
Chili Town strips it back, and the wistful yowl off Bamboo is here- the very cute single that brought them to our attention when they were still called Deers, but And I Will Send Your Flowers Back could be the ultimate kiss-off, a surf tune which kicks potential suitors where it hurts.
An adorable, spiky little debut from young women living in the moment, as only late teens can.