[review 2006: the best of the year]

I read a Pitchfork review of a Be Your Own Pet show that included this passage:

Being a late twentysomething at a BYOP show is an unavoidably anthropological experience, and anthropology, with its subtext of superior vantage, always carries a whiff of condescension. Being a teenager is something I’m irrevocably outside of, and being a teenager is exactly what a BYOP show is about.

Well, okay, sure. The members of Be Your Own Pet aren’t even of legal drinking age yet, and their music is essentially one giant, seething mass of fuck you. But last I checked, a giant, seething mass of fuck you isn’t something you have to be under 18 to enjoy. I was at the Toronto show and let me tell you, there were plenty of late twenty-somethings smashing elbows into other people’s chests and generally beating the shit out of themselves and each other, and it was awesome. And all this in Toronto, a city where the standard hipster dance is to remain as deathly still as possible.

You know how Pixar manages to make millions of dollars making terrific animated movies that appeal to little kids and adults alike? Be Your Own Pet is a lot like that, except instead of cute animated fish they’ve got punk guitar and Jemima Pearl, a tiny near-college-age woman who shrieks and shakes as if she’s possessed. Teenagers probably like Be Your Own Pet because they can smash shit in their rooms and rock out, because Be Your Own Pet bring the rock like so few bands can these days. Thing is, I like them because I can smash shit in my room and rock out too, and I ain’t no teenager. How can you listen to a song like “Bicycle, Bicycle, You Are My Bicycle” and not immediately want to yell “We’re on two wheels, baby!”? (On a side note, how is this not already the theme song for every Critical Mass group in existence?) There are plenty of ready-made slogans that should appeal to anyone with a healthy sense of rebellion. If you can’t appreciate a line like “Have fun, and be safe with it—just kidding, FUCK SHIT UP!” then you’re not allowed to be a part of my revolution.

I suppose you could make a comparison to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Karen O, but to be honest I don’t remember the Yeah Yeah Yeahs having nearly the same amount of energy. This is an album where the stompin’ good time that is “Adventure” is practically a ballad compared to the other tracks, an album where the one real ballad contains the line “We’re not out of ammo yet!” And in case the rallying cries of “I’m an independent motherfucker!” and “Get outta my skin, get outta my skin!” or the spine-dislocating jostle of “Let’s Get Sandy (Big Problem)” or “Girls On T.V.” don’t do it for you, there’s the final masterpiece: “Ouch,” an awesome punk tribute to Dawn of the Dead, complete with a chorus that includes the seminal line “When there’s no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.”

Be Your Own Pet will rip your face off and kick you in the shins if you give them half the chance, and man is it ever worth it.