fake boyfriend – Mercy

I’m not afraid of flying in the way some people are, the ones who need to be in a catatonic state to stop themselves scratching at the porthole windows and grasping for the oxygen masks. But I do admit to a five minute period of hyper-realisation every time I board a plane where it hits home how absurd it is to climb inside a metal box that goes really really high up into the air, a tiny technical fault away from imminent death.

The reason I’m telling you all this is because I first listened to ‘SHIP’, the opening track from fake boyfriend’s debut EP Mercy, in a bout of (admittedly mild) turbulence 35,000 feet above Canada, the manic swaying of the plane matched that of the song perfectly. It kind of whipped up a devil-may-care attitude inside me, an internal challenge to fuel leaks or birds in the engines, a feeling I can best describe as “go on, try it”. In short, it’s empowering. The song has a similar devilish air to Oh, Rose, a great big rumbling slice of unhinged rock ‘n roll with vocals that yell and squeal in ten tones of derangement.

fake boyfriend are from Philadelphia, a fertile breeding ground for cool bands it seems. They certainly know how to inject a dose of pop into their punk without losing any of that ferocity, kicking back at the stupid and commonly-held ideas of how women should act and feel. ‘BUMTOWN’ begins slow and soft, more akin to the harmonious folk of Mountain Man than the noisy punk of the opener, but all that changes at the halfway mark as the guitars turn electric and the vocals get all growly and things get cathartically catchy, group vocals straining to breaking point until everything explode in a roar.

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Things get more tender on ‘WAX’, “if it seems like I’ve gotten better will you look at me then?” singer/guitarist Ashley Tryba sings,”If I write you another letter will you respond to it?” But the track again builds with pounding drums and choral vocals, this time creating something that sounds triumphant rather than manic. The guitars that open finale ‘EXPIRED’ sound instantly shadowy and ominous, expanding into barely-contained mayhem that somehow still manages to hold on to the thread of catchiness and fun that makes you reach for that replay button.

You can get Mercy on cassette or a digital download via the fake boyfriend Bandcamp page.