Earlier this month, The Regrettes hit the scene with their debut album, “Feel Your Feelings Fool.” Like many debuts, theirs was a quiet one with little fanfare and modest expectations. Signed to Warner Brothers Records and hailing from Los Angeles, the group touts the label of punk rock with a feminist spin.
Each song off the album is self-described as a diary entry from lead singer Lydia Night’s life. The lyrics tend to support this, as they seem to come from a very personal place. However, as is the standard with punk, personal doesn’t mean delicate. These tracks are incredible raucous and fairly high-octane, as is to be expected. They are also fairly divisive.
Perhaps for the right person, Night’s lyrics will be very appealing and speak to them on a personal level. But for the more general indie audience, these songs will seem silly, unrelatable and perhaps even esoteric. This is not necessarily the fault of the band; such issues tend to arise when writing about very personal topics in one’s self-contained circle or social sphere. In this case, The Regrettes songs tend to be self-satirical rants about feminism, personal encounters with jerks and problems within the LGBT community. Well and good topics for contemplation, but for a punk outfit, difficult to reach an audience with.
To reflect on the band’s sound as well, perhaps punk is a bit of a stretch. The Regrettes’ sound on this album conjures more comparisons to Cherry Glazerr or Girlpool than to traditional punk acts like FIDLAR or Dead Kennedys. The energy is there, but the style is slightly different. Punk is certainly difficult to define, but The Regrettes lack the screaming, the guitar and the drums that are fairly standard in this sense.
What the band does have is a light layer of overdrive on vocals, minorly distorted guitar, basic bass and boring drums. The song structure is also fairly bland and repetitive, lacking both intricacy and variety. The guitar is fairly standard, but lacks any notable riffs or powerful melodies that would otherwise help to carry the album. The best that can really be said for the group’s instrumentation is that it’s there. It isn’t mind blowing, and it’s certainly not bringing anything new to the scene.
The nail in the coffin for The Regrettes’ debut is that even though it’s not bad and can at times be fairly interesting in its own silly way, the group has entered into a fairly overcrowded market with a sound that doesn’t bring anything new to the table. It’s more of the same, done to a degree that says “repetition,” not “refinement.” Many other bands have covered everything that The Regrettes have to provide to a higher degree of skill and proficiency. From the perspective of someone just looking for their next femme-centric, punk-ish fix, perhaps this album will be a satisfying addition to the Spotify playlist filler. But from the perspective of anyone looking for something new, exciting, creative or all-around outstanding in any way, this album is a strong pass. It’s unfortunate, but like the namesake, The Regrettes deliver nothing but a lukewarm collection of melodies primed to be forgotten the next day.
