Girls Against Boys
Cruise Yourself

The Girls Vs Boys were among the most interesting bands in the US indie-noise jungle of the last decade. After their apprentice years in Washington DC (with some Dischord history for a couple of them), the quartet led by the charismatic Scott McCloud landed at Touch and Go to create some works in the '90s that still shine today, managing to record even for the big label David Geffen. Despite the band being highly praised by the specialized press, which coined the unfortunate definition of "new Nirvana," McCloud and company did not break through commercially, and slowly sank into oblivion, even though their return to the indie world coincided with a good album "You can't fight what you can't see" in 2002, which remains their last musical effort to date.
It's a shame because the sound recipe of the quartet still sounds sophisticated and intriguing today, fully reflecting a decade lived on the contamination between genres. "Cruise yourself", released in 1994, competes with the previous "Venus Luxury baby n. 1" for the title of the band's masterpiece, or at least the work that best defines their sonic horizons. The result is an incredibly brilliant and modern sound, capable of wonderfully synthesizing the guitar assaults of the Fugazi school and obsessive rhythmic patterns rooted in new wave (the seminal Gang of Four are just around the corner), often leading to techno-tribal mantras reminiscent of Cop Shoot Cop (keyboardist Eli Janney often plays a second bass, significantly emphasizing the rhythmic aspect; sampling is frequently used while drummer Alexis Fleisig pounds away like a metalworker, often over disorienting kraut-rock rhythms).

A certainly common mix for that period, but few like Girls Vs Boys found inspired and happy cues, resulting in a distinctive and effective style, capable of generating a harsh rock, never bombastic, dynamic, and frightfully nocturnal. What gives a special touch to the songs of "Cruise yourself" is McCloud's singing, sharp and cynical in the vein of Mark E. Smith of the Fall, with lyrics telling stories of alcohol, sex, nocturnal car races, and assorted boredom. No urban apocalypse like Cop Shoot Cop, but fragments of ordinary and languid metropolitan depravity.
There are truly numerous moments to cherish in this album, starting with the opener "Tucked in": the Killing Joke transported into the sonic magma of the '90s, culminating in a guitar finale worthy of the Slint.
Fabulous also are the two singles "Kill the sex player" and "I don't got a place", the latter enveloped in simply exquisite psycho-pop candied fruits, where it's bassist Johnny Temple who leads the intense grooves of "Explicitly yours" and "Psychic know how”. Speaking of the martial ride in the Gang of Four style "Raindrop", the best comes at the end. "My martini" enchants thanks to a humorous text and disorienting keyboards, reminiscent of Wire: an effect carried over in "Glazed eye”, which is based on fantastic vibraphone use by the versatile Jinney, while McCloud's dragging vocals - repetitively chanting "you're swinging too high" - the melancholic bass lines, and the always effective guitar parts craft a perfect piece.

Overall, an unmissable record, the ideal soundtrack for a hypothetical James Ellroy novel set on the East Coast: a magnificent seal of a happy and perhaps unrepeatable musical era. It's a pity that the much-acclaimed "alternative nation" of that period was far more conservative than believed, preventing bands like Girls Against Boys from garnering the appropriate public recognition.