The first thing you learn about The Bobby Lees upon playing their new album, Bellevue, is that they don’t waste time. The title track, which opens the album, explodes like ambush machine gun fire. It’s hard to determine who is going fastest. Is it Sam Quartin with her frantic vocals, Macky Bowman with his raging drums, Nick Casa with his blazing guitar, or Kendall Wind with her bonkers bass?
They only stop to breathe for the beginning of “Hollywood Junkyard,” which soon grows into a savage beast of a track that has Quartin ripping apart fame and all the trappings and expectations that come with it. “Ma Likes to Drink” ups the punk (and the funk on Wind’s bass). “Death Train” brings in monster surf elements and Quartin tells us to “shut up and dance.”
“Strange Days” takes a strange left turn, reminding me of some early tracks by Yeah Yeah Yeahs with its haunted house piano, rock star swagger, and air of mystery. “Dig Your Hips” lights a new fuse under your feet with some of Bowman’s hardest snare slaps on the record. I love how the whole band sings on the chorus of “Have You Seen a Girl.” Casa’s guitar solo on “In Low” is jaw-dropping. It sounds like the rest of the band told him, “Just go nuts.”, and he took them up on the offer.
“Little Table” might be a song about human furniture fetish, or a song about the interdependency of relationships. It could be both. “Monkey Mind” has Quartin protesting her inability to stay present. We can all relate to this, and to Wind’s dance bass groove. “Greta Van Fake” is, as you’d expect and hope, a brutal takedown of Greta Van Fleet (“I watch you from the crowd as you fake it, now watch us from the ground as we make it.”). The album closes with “Be My Enemy,” which has Quartin telling her detractors that she’s biding her time as they push her down so she can grow in strength and then smash them to pieces.
Bellevue is named after the upstate New York mental hospital, and Quartin has mentioned that she wrote many of the album’s lyrics while undergoing great stress during the pandemic. The album is manic, for sure, but there’s a tightness to it like a straitjacket that’s tearing at the seams.
Keep your mind open.
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[Thanks to Monica at Speakeasy PR.]