![]() That hype maelstrom was mostly a byproduct of critics getting their collective minds blown during the band’s strobe-heavy SXSW live shows. But when Fay Milton is beating her ride cymbal during the chorus of “She Will” like it owes her money? When guitarist Gemma Thompson is using her Fender to emulate the sound of a butcher severing steer tendons in “Strife”? I don’t think anybody is stopping to think, “hey, this kinda sounds like Joy Division! But, y’know, a humorless Joy Division.” It’s strange, then, that most of the backlash against the hype Savages enjoyed earlier this year generally attacked two things: the transparency of their influences and their supposed lack of humor. Not to mention the sheer intensity of front woman Jehnny Beth: she’s a magnetic personality with the charisma of Siouxsie Sioux and the banshee howl of Rush’s Geddy Lee, but far more antagonistic than either. They are notorious for requesting that concertgoers silence their phones at their shows (sadly unheeded judging from the New York City one I saw last month). Consider: Silence Yourself’s cover art features a written manifesto in Helvetica font. It’s unquestionable that Savages’ aesthetic may strike certain listeners as being a touch severe. ![]()
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