As far as punk primitivism, it doesn’t get much primitive-er than this. It’s disjointed, tentative, and skeletal, with an energy level a notch above comatose. The gal on vox sounds bored outta her very skull, and the rest of the band – drums + guitar – generally sounds like it’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere. Watching TV or sumpin, dunno. Strange… the brain can easily hear what these songs would sound like in the hands of a zillion other groups, but Bratmobile makes them distinctive by stripping the music down to the most basic elements – just the notes themselves, really – and ignoring frills like dynamics and overdubs and anything even resembling rock/punk posturing. The disc is aggressive in its amateurishness, and, while nothing spectacular, is still oddly appealing for it.