By the time you read this, 2013 will be over. If you’re reading this while it’s “fresh”, then you might still be hung over from celebrating as much. Still, in all likelihood, you’re probably not as hung over as I was after recording the following, back in the summer of 2010.

Let us be clear: Girls Are Weird was not a band. It wasn’t even a recording project. It was a drunken, depressed musical abortion, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

There are a lot of personal details I could divulge, but rather than embarrass myself or anyone else, I’ll keep it short: Brian Polsgrove (also of Blood Necklace and Better Late Than Pregnant) and I were both walking home from a party in Ypsilanti one night, besotted and incoherently grousing about our respective situations with the fairer sex. In a moment of relative clarity, Brian (I think?) pointed out how “emo” we sounded, especially when I espoused the nugget of wisdom reiterated in this recording’s title. He declared that we should retire to his room at the Pleasure Dome to make a drunken emo record.

Depending on how loose you want to get with your terminology, that’s kind of what happened. Girls Are Weird is certainly, at least, a sad affair. However, it doesn’t sound like Sunny Day Real Estate, or even Sebadoh (well, there may be some early Sebadoh tapes that sound kinda like this, but I bet even ol’ lo-fi Lou had the foresight not to release them). It sounds more like the Dead C halfway through a two-week bender, or perhaps Inca Eyeball minus their dedication to brevity (not to mention the hilarious, sub-Shadow Ring “poetry”). In other words, it sounds like drunken bullshit.

Which, frankly, is why I still think it sounds great. I don’t care what any old codger noise careerists might say: noise is NEVER over, because it will ALWAYS be fun to get fucked up and make a racket with your friends. This tape is as pure and Dionysian an example of that maxim as any.

That said, I only put out twelve copies initially, mostly because Brian doesn’t like it quite as much as I do. While I stand by my own opinion, I can hardly begrudge him his: seriously, who in their right mind would want to listen to this nonsense? It was actually hard to even sell the twelve, since I couldn’t say it was “good” to anyone except those few damaged, “wrong-minded” folk that I knew would appreciate it. To hell with it, though… I can’t speak for Brian, but that is exactly for whom I’m working.

To wit: I finally managed to sell my last copy at the Shadow Art Fair a few years back. Some stoner kid spent a long time staring at it, giggling at the cover. Finally, he asked me what it was. I told him (I’m paraphrasing) that it was two drunk idiots banging away on guitars and broken electronics, with no attention to technique or taste, for about half an hour, recorded on a broken 4-track that makes everything sound even worse. His response:

“That sounds FUCKING AWESOME!”

…which goes to show, I guess, that you never can tell.


Dustin Krcatovich is a cartoonist, writer, designer, founder of FM DUST, and a collector of certain curios and ephemera (with a focus on 20th century "junk culture"). His writing and illustration work appears frequently in The Quietus, Tiny Mix Tapes, and Esquire's Culture Blog. He is also a former editor and contributor to Secret Zen Garden,Saagara's illustrated mindfulness/wellness blog for young people. He currently resides in Portland, OR.

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