It’s one thing to appropriate “fag,” but try reclaiming the power of “broad.” Most people don’t even remember that dusty designation, but the (mostly) gals in these two West Coast scuzzites reach back into a bawdy past from Alice Kramden to ’60s-flick chicks to the Runaways in search of that certain bruised ‘n’ boozed energy of the scorned catfighter. History’s hard-drinking mamas have been dispatched to pop culture’s über-underbelly, mainly because we just don’t talk about the working class anymore. (Actually, it’s mainly drag queens who drop Rusty Warren or Shangri-Las references now.) But San Fran’s Husbands would probably name the Demolition Doll Rods as their inspiration (and are probably the only band in existence to do so), and at this point, they do the stripper-with-the-Cramps-in-her-cracked-Walkman stomp better than anybody on There’s Nothing I’d Like More Than to See You Dead, their stingier-sounding sophomore stab. Thee Emergency, meanwhile, owe less to their Seattle streets and more to Detroit’s ubiquitous blustered blues-punk heroes, but add butt-basic berating of half-men from a lead fox with a whiskey-weaned wail. Biker broads of the world, unite and take over.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on June 6, 2006