By Seth Colter Walls
By Brett Koshkin
By Spencer Wilking
By Christina Black
By Calum Marsh
By J. Pablo
By Phillip Mlynar
By Jenna Sauers
Her name was Rio. Now she doesn't even have a number like my TVC 15. But she's the star in this bedroom. On Red Bedroom's cover portrait, courtesy of Fever vocalist-resident Nagel Geremy Jasper, she's a crash-test dummy with an engine-block updo and a stretching-ringed neckChicks on Speed's glamour girl visualized. With "the frigid skin of a mannequin" and "nothing inside," she threatens to reduce Jasper and his boys to her collage-prepped pile of limbs. When he sings "I'd give my right arm now you've wronged me," he means it literally. In short, these scuzzy Voidoids are as immature as Blink-182 were; they just have hipper ways of hiding itlike pretending punk and new wave were the same thing. Fortunately for us pods, they fetishize song form as much as the post-feminist body, stitching together their creations with hooks and bridges, ABC's and 123's. They're denying sexual difference while we're denying capitalist pseudo-differentiation, the very least inhabitants of the Matrix can ask of a pop song. But once these Von Frankensteins get over their girl problems, out will pop an eponymous testament as bland as Blink-182's. So catch the Fever while they're still cold, before they really turn into the grown men they think they are.
The Fever play the Siren Music Festival at Coney Island July 17.
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