Harriet Gibsone 

Dilly Dally: Sore review – unsanitised aggression from Toronto indie-punks

Dilly Dally’s explicit, brutalist sound doesn’t stray far from the indie-punk template, but its moody determination make it a winner
  
  

Dilly Dally 2015 band
Stomach-rumbling hunger … Dilly Dally Photograph: PR

In an age of Femfresh and facial contouring, Dilly Dally fly the flag for the unvarnished female; propelled by an animalistic hornineness, stomach-rumbling hunger and the moody determination of bratty punk rock. Founded by Toronto-based Katie Monks and Liz Ball, the group’s debut has an explicit, brutalist sound: bludgeoning bass, gnarly guitars and red-raw vocals – like the Pixies with PMT, or perhaps mid-flow, if you’re to take Snake Head literally: “Snakes are coming out of my head / And there’s blood between my legs”). Elsewhere, Monks explores waitress/wife fantasies on Green (“I want you, naked in my kitchen / Makin’ me breakfast”), and Ice Cream is a tale of friendship – or more specifically, of two broke and bummed-out musicians howling for attention (“If I scream, when you scream / They’re not gonna miss us now!”). Musically, there’s little deviation from its core indie and punk structures; but intricacies are unnecessary when there’s all that unsanitised, honest aggression to absorb instead.

 

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