The Gay Blades are a two piece from New York City who play an acerbic brand of Trash Pop. What is Trash Pop, you ask? Trash pop is what happens when two keenly observant wannabe hipsters write and record songs the same pair couldn’t possibly pull off live, and make up for their missing bass player with consistently explosive performances and a heaping spoonful of swagger. Clark Westfield plays the guitar and Puppy Mills plays the drums. They met while volunteering in a traveling sideshow, Clark juggling and Puppy taking tickets. Afterwards, back in NYC, the duo formed The Gay Blades.
With their debut record Ghosts, The Gay Blades take their T. Rex/Bill Murray inspired live show and add more texture and color with the inclusion of keys, synths, strings, harmony and even bass (despite their mantra of “BUCK FASS”.) Ten eccentric and trashy pop songs scream for your attention – each one filled with curious wordplay and tireless metaphor. In “Dog Day Afternoon”, our hero, Clark Westfield takes hostages after a bank robbery goes awry in an attempt to win our affection. In “Why Can’t I Grow A Beard?” he takes cues from his idol, Brian Wilson, locking himself inside for years, becoming the recluse he knows he never could be. In “Robots Can Fuck Your Shit Up” we learn that robots have feelings too. “O Shot”, the record’s stand out track and first single, is all about drummer Puppy Mills’ glamorous and propulsive drums, which result in sound that’s more Marc Bolan than Jack White, more Stooges than Eagles of Death Metal, more JSBX than Electric Six.
Bob Dylan’s 115th Nightmare
The title is a play on the words of Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream, and is the third song on The Gay Blade’s first album, Ghosts.
Well, his eyes are blue and your eyes are blue
And you’re the furthest thing from him,
But if you think you’re cool it’s more likely true
That your friends wish you were dead
You can make them bow or you can push them out
Case you never really learned
How to connect you can’t comprehend
How it’s gonna end
Make love till those chemicals wear off
Do your best to complicate it all
Find love buried in the words of god
But you know you found them cause you hit rock bottom
And it’s cool man, cause cool hands lose.
You never captivate, you just capitulate
And you follow all the trends
And if you make it out, you know they’ll figure out
That you’re faking all of this.
And you’re waiting for some kind of irreverence
You know the rebel’s ain’t your friends
They can see right through,
You play it safe don’t you
And if your story never starts,
How can it end?
Love me, hate me, kill me, let me know it.
Well if it’s bad, it’s bad,
And if i’m drunk, i’m drunk
But brunettes are in my blood
And you can let me know if you’d be into it
Cause it’s spring and i’m in love
And now i’m paralyzed by fictitious eyes
You know i’ll never make them mine
Well i should have guessed that i can make a mess
Like nobody’s business
- From the 2008 album, Ghosts: