After jumping from grrrl group to grrrl group, Frankie Rose plants her feet with The Outs and strikes the right chord
[b]Frankie Rose[/b] has graced the line-ups of so many of the current crop of shangrilo-fi dream-pop grrrl groups there should really be a specialist Six Degrees Of… drinking game named in her honour. But after stints in [a]Vivian Girls[/a], [a]Crystal Stilts[/a] and [a]Dum Dum Girls[/a], she’s finally put down roots with [a]The Outs[/a] and made an album of hypnotic, woozy-headed pop that owes as much to Spacemen 3 as it does Spector’s wall of sound. And bloody good it is, too. Popping her head from under a parapet of marijuana smoke with haunting opener ‘[b]Hollow Life[/b]’, over the course of the next 11 songs Frankie (and The Outs, naturally) seduces you with spectral melodies (‘[b]Lullabye For Roads And Miles[/b]’), [a]Moe Tucker[/a]-esque, look-mum-I-can-drum rhythm (‘[b]Candy[/b]’) and shit-eating surf guitar licks that belong over the top of a Tarantino car chase (‘[b]Don’t Tread[/b]’). For a record just 30 minutes long it feels impossibly epic and for all its scuzzy, lo-fi production, it still sounds fully realised. Not to mention fully brilliant.
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‘Frankie Rose & The Outs’ from Rough Trade Shops.