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KICK OUT THE JAMS

Thursday, October 23, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Kick Out the Jams

Boulevard and The Day After at the Cooler Lounge, Oct. 18

In one of his finest critical moments, musical mastermind Lester Bangs described the experience of seeing Elvis as "an erection of the heart." Not to take anything away from Bangs (there's no doubt Elvis was a pelvis-thrusting thrill-a-minute), but in my mind, girl-fronted rock bands do the King one better, providing for the heart and the groin.

Unfortunately, this dual allure can be as much a liability as an asset since the attention garnered by girl-fronted groups often tends to focus more on their taste in jeans and lip gloss than on the music. Look at the chicks in Sahara Hotnights, for example. These Swedish babes rock just as hard as their Nordic countrymen, and yet they get nary a spritz of the critical love sh owered on the Hives, the (International) Noise Conspiracy and Division of Laura Lee. The same is true for Sleater-Kinney, the Deal sisters and Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Shoot, even the Donnas got chops when they can rein in their boy-crazy libidos.

A further problem faced by rock 'n' roll front-femmes is the mind-numbing dearth of critical language used to describe their sounds and styles. Almost inevitably, they are compared to Janis Joplin, Debbie Harry, Courtney Love or Gwen Stefani. Luckily, this is not too big a problem for local rockers Boulevard, who sound exactly like an unpolished, Spanish-speaking No Doubt. Fronted by a feisty Latin riot grrl named Katherine and backed by a cadre of expatriates (the drummer is Bolivian, the guitarist, Israeli), Boulevard plays a familiar blend of funkafied ska-punk. And while the Spanish vocals provide a welcome respite from the conventional fare, Katherine's repeated claim that "The next song is different" never proved all that accurate.

In The Day After's case, however, comparisons become a bit more problematic. Wavering between straightforward, Breeders-style chord-rock and Sunny Day Real Estate-esque guitar flourishes, The Day After is neither punk nor quite emo. On its best track, "No Regrets," singer Jenine Cali's voice soars over a blossoming cacophony of drums and fuzz. Sadly, there was little soaring going on at the Cooler on Saturday as Cali and company didn't hit the stage until after 1 a.m. and they were admittedly rather tired. Still, Boulevard and The Day After showed potential--perhaps not enough to take it to the next level but at least enough to kick a few boy bands' asses (which they both promptly did to the evening's other act, the L.A. garage-mod quartet Tinpaco). Rock on, ladies. Rock on.--Newt Briggs


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