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Eyeliners | Here Comes Trouble | review | punk | rock | Lollipop

The Eyeliners

Here Comes Trouble (Panic Button)
by Scott Hefflon

I'm a sucker for two-minute, straight-forward, three-chord rock, especially when the band's made up of women in leather, wearing tight animal print tops, minis, anklets, and spiked collars. The kinda trash-talkin' chicks you always wish you'd meet at late-night diners instead of the dangerously drunk, sexually-frustrated barroom brawlers who can't get laid, so they'd rather kick yer ass than go home to their pig of a wife and delinquent kids. Sigh...

The Eyeliners keep it short, peppy, and simple. The harmonies aren't so processed that they don't even sound like voices anymore, the chords sound like the kinda stuff you jam in your bedroom, dreaming of the day someone'll drive by and hear you, think yer the nuts, and sign you to a multi-million dollar contract on the spot, and, um, there are drums and bass too, but I can't think of any more clever descriptions. So this is like The Donnas but without Spin and 'Stone drooling all over a pretty simple fuckin' phenomenon: Chicks who rock. So while I'm coppin', the bio sez the songs are a "stomp through a graveyard on the way to a drive-in for a late-night make-out session that's bound to end in a broken heart."


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