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Song of the day – 394: Throwing Up (the best fucking biog I’ve read all day)

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Throwing Up

Sometimes, my role as music critic/shifty chameleon, word cipher/blank canvas, jaded hipster/aged retard is remarkably straightforward.

Take today, for instance. A lesser music critic might choose to paraphrase, or quote, or write their own take on Throwing Up using all sorts of flowery language and meta metaphors that couldn’t help but pale into grey next to the following words I received in my inbox earlier. Not me. I take the Elmore Leonard approach to writing. The direct route. Entertain but don’t keep them guessing. Say what you mean. So why not reprint the damn thing, and be done with it? It was probably put together by those wonder kids at American Apparel anyway. And fuck. Who am I to argue with money?

I never really know what to say about us but here is something of a bio:

Throwing up is Ben Rayner, Clare james Clare and Camille Benett. Me and Ben were born in the same month, in 1985, good year for movies and maybe wine, he used to go out with a girl who lived next to my school but I never met him til we were older. He thinks I’m pretty gross, but that might just be something he thinks about all girls that aren’t Lauren, his wife, or it might be because sometimes when I’m drunk I take my clothes off in public or lie, crying, in the street. At any rate, he’s adopted me now for better or worse and I think I’ve given him my cold so at least on a microbial level we’re related.

Clare I think I’ve known since i was 19, but maybe before that I used to turn up at nights she worked at and demand to be let in free. She hated me for it until one day we just became best friends and moved in together. That was pretty tempestuous and we tried to kill each other so we moved apart, now we’re older and wiser and spend just enough time together to uphold the fragile balance between psyched and psycho. She lives in this warehouse where we have a rehearsal space, it’s decorated with paper skeletons and silk flowers and we share it with Mazes and Male Bonding. Our rehearsals usually just involve messing around and drinking beers and blue wkd, we have short attention spans and smoke too much and I’m always late.

Sometimes I think it’s a bit embarrassing but mostly I just write songs about boys and being mental with boys, or people who piss me off, they’re kind of the same thing. I’m also really preoccupied with the idea of having nothing to say or saying meaningless things and being a fake or a liar. I feel like everyone’s lying to everyone and themselves all the time. Maybe I’m paranoid.

Camille / Throwing Up

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So then. What are they like? FUCKING ACE!

Here’s the Tumblr link.

Oh … and if all else fails, trust Tamsin. Are you almost bursting with sorrow for lack of new femme-pop/punk recommendations, and the new Everett True Bust column is months away? Trust Tamsin. She will not let you down. (Fine writer, too.)

The following is taken from her recent album review, Songs To DIY For: Messthetics, Throwing Up and Hug Party.

For starters there’s Throwing Up, a ferocious trio who I can’t wait to see live. They’ve released two 7”s on What’s Your Rupture? (‘Mother Knows Best’ and ‘When I Touch You’/’Toothache’), complete with Xeroxed covers and hand-written labels. They are nothing original, just straight-ahead boobs-to-the-wall femme-punk thrashers with good tunes. Not being original doesn’t make them not ace, they have the energy and conviction to make up for it. ‘Toothache’ features exemplary use of my two favourite chords and finishes with one of the best garage-punk screams I’ve heard in ages.

Tamsin also adds:

I like them. But, here’s the thing – actually they’re probably quite cool. And remember what I said about DIY bands being anything but?

As I say, if all else fails, trust Tamsin.

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