Lids, Final Solutions | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader

Lids, Final Solutions 

The 12 songs on the Lids' self-titled debut, new on Rip Off Records, tear by in less than 19 minutes, but even that quick dose of this Atlanta band's bratty sock-hop punk is enough to make the sky look bluer. All of a sudden it seems like a good thing that America is breeding an endless supply of restless teenagers, cranking 'em through soul-crushing public schools and dead-end jobs, and selling 'em porn, cigarettes, and liquor. Because some of those teenagers are bound to be Ramones fans, and when their little minds come off their pins, you get great music like this. The vocal melodies are simple and catchy, with tweaked-out pep-rally backups; front man Bjay rants about sex and idiots in a hoarse bark, and the girl singer, Alix Brown, sounds like she's bouncing around the room on a Hoppity Hop and yelling into the mike whenever she gets close enough. Add Rip Off's trademark nasty, blown-out, house-party-style "production" and you've got the Devil Dogs hate-fucking Alvin & the Chipmunks. Openers the Final Solutions use a tight, clever, pleasantly frightening blend of metal guitar, new-wave synths, reverbed horror-show vocals, and stabby postpunk drums (courtesy Jay Reatard of the Lost Sounds). Believe it or not, a touch of garage pop--like the hand claps on "No Final Solution"--renders their tunes danceable. These guys put out Disco Eraser (Misprint) in January, and local label Shit Sandwich will have still-warm copies of a just-released seven-inch on hand at the show. Manaconda plays first and the Baseball Furies headline. Sat 12/18, 10 PM, Subterranean Cafe & Cabaret, 2011 W. North, 773-278-6600 or 800-594-8499, $8.

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