Cranberries by Cowabunga Babes

The Shaggs. This sixties pop trio can never seem to catch a break. YouTube comments range from minor mockery like “someone tell the drummer what song they’re playing,” to  clever abuse such as “perfect candy for brain tumors.” But I admire the band’s attempt. The band was born out of their father’s bizarre insistence; his mother had some sort of psychic premonition of stardom, so he bought his girls instruments and literally forced them to record music without having any wisdom whatsoever of the sound, theory, and technology of western music. Not even the most gifted musicians could have operated successfully under those conditions. Cowabunga Babes is an Austin, Texas based amateur beach pop collective that does not let their mediocre musical prowess get in the way of musical fusion. “Cranberries” is a one minute and forty-nine second ball of catchy bedroom jamming. Its teenage aesthetic and starry-eyed ambition are absorbingly fun and amusingly “twee.” The lyrics and melody flow like a Ronettes or Crystals song, telling the story of a lonely teenage girl looking for her Mr. Right. And granted, Cowabunga Babes are not the most talented, gifted, or even innovative group out there, but their “I’ll do what I want” philosophy is one hundred percent punk rock.



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