Review Summary: The most respected riot grrrl band takes a little too much time to come up with a sophomore for Pussy Whipped and when it finally did, it felt like it came a little too late
A lot has happened in the three year gap between
Pussy Whipped and
Reject All American. Riot grrrl was not hot on the market anymore, nor was alternative rock for that matter. Bikini Kill acknowledges that on the cover. But acknowledgement is not enough.
While it’s certain that this is not the band anyone would expect to draw the market back to riot grrrl. No one would even want that, I guess. But the group did make some effort towards accessibility with their last record. While remaining on indie label Kill Rock Stars, Bikini Kill hired John Goodmanson to produce it. A new name back then, still working with the likes of Unwound, and soon enough, Sleater-Kinney. And he is a pretty good producer, don’t get me wrong, but he did make the band’s most round, polished record.
Cleaner production can be good, but for a band that relied so much on vital energy pouring from every note and shout that’s hardly the case. Here they highlight the playfulness and sardonic humor of their sound, which was present as early as “Suck My Left One”. On the interesting stop-and-go instrumentals of “Tony Randall” it can work pretty well. But ultimately Reject All American doesn’t have the relentless guitar attack and stock of hooks that would make Goodmanson’s production work so much better in
Dig Me Out a few months later.
But I have to admit it’s interesting to see the band trying to break out of its shell. Bands that rely on instrumental simplicity often have problem doing so. Bikini Kill venture into ballad territory more often here – bringing some keyboard even (“False Start”). It doesn’t always work, though. But it certainly does when they pay tribute to a friend that passed away (“R.I.P.”) - most of all because Kathleen Hanna gives the most passionate performance of their discography, filling longing and anger in lines like “I know there's lots of rad queer boys up there” and “don’t tell me I’ve had three days to get over it/It won’t go away“.
Well, they did advise us on “Jet Ski” that they were not here to please. Unfortunately it does not compensate Reject All American's shortcomings. They may not have been eager to please anyone, but this set of songs makes a strong argument that they were even less interested in shocking or even surprising anyone. For a band whose presence was so vital for the early nineties scene, well, that’s a shame.
