It’s a lesson that
rock’n’roll has to learn over and over and over again: keep it simple, stupid.
Guitar, bass, drums and vocals that value enthusiasm over pitch: that and a few
great riffs are all you need. The Stooges, the Sex Pistols, Nirvana, the White
Stripes: every generation of rock’n’roll needs a back to basics. This New York
City act could be that band in 2018.
There is nothing
remotely original about Bodega (not to be confused with the ’90s indie rock
band from Toronto): one can draw a straight line from The Fall to Pavement to
Le Tigre to here. There is one less obvious reference point: Toronto’s
Barcelona Pavilion (2001-05), to which Bodega bears an uncanny
resemblance—though that band was obscure enough that it’s unlikely to ever come
up in conversation (but if, like me, you remember them as one of the most
exciting acts of the so-called “Torontopia” movement of the time, it’s hard to
unhear the comparsion).
These three women and
two men are too effective as players to be considered amateurish; they simply
know how to utilize the bare minimum for maximum impact. Co-lead vocalists
Nikki Belfiglio and Ben Hozie are neither singers nor rappers—they’re more like
sloganeers, articulating the ennui of the digital generation (“All day at work
/ stare at computer! / come home from work / stare at computer! / do my own
work / stare at computer!”) and documenting the mundanities of everything from
moving boxes to masturbation.
"Your
playlist knows you better than your closest lover," shouts Hozie at one
point. If you have Bodega on your playlist, at the very least it means you’re
funny, critical of consumer culture, suspicious of people who can’t interact
IRL, and have long fantasized about forming a rock band with your closest
friends, if you haven’t already. (July 27)
Stream: “How Did This
Happen?” “I Am Not a Cinephile,” “Bookmarks”
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