Debut EP from Trans Panic. A glorious mess of songs about punching out misogynists, a local chaos cryptid, moving past bad experiences, and using the power of necromancy for good.
“Portland punks Trans Panic describe themselves as the hypothetical baby of Against Me!, the Damned, and NOFX, and while it fits them, it doesn’t do their sound or instrumentation from their debut EP true justice. Smile (for me) is the next in a long legacy of punks pouring raw emotion and bitter humor into their work with fiery results. Their vocals may sound as crisp as anything else from the 21st century, but the guitar, drums, and bass could be stripped straight from the 80s, lo-fi buzz and all. You can hear the swagger in their performances, especially in bassist and singer Ruby’s vocals. As she yells out “your ego so fragile needs a smile to mend” on the EP’s titular song, her voice carries a genuine anger and just enough gravel to convey the energy burning behind each line, each shout for vengeance and satisfaction. Accompanied by a low, buzzing bass line, slow in tempo and grooving underneath, “Smile (for me)” invites the listener to scream along about the wrongs of the past, blaring promises of violent retribution out their car windows.
This EP, though a mere four tracks long, also packs enough sincerity and levity to give the impression of Trans Panic as a well-rounded outfit. Switching to acoustic guitars and what sounds like hand drumming on “Searching for a Spotless Mind,” the three-piece allow themselves a little more vulnerability for a track about a painful relationship and trying to move on. Still, they manage to list half a dozen darkly creative ways to destroy oneself that are preferable to the past, whether it’s dancing on landmines or taking a knitting needle through the frontal lobe. Even more befitting this macabre sense of humor is the last song on the project, “Crustpunk Santa Will Have His Revenge on Portland.” An unserious ode to the sort of person you meet in the scene if you’re around long enough, “Crustpunk Santa” features a lot of “doin’ fat lines with nasty Saint Nick,” the sort of bonding experience that can really cement someone in your brain. Trans Panic show themselves to be versatile writers and musicians in these brief 12 minutes, and I greatly look forward to whatever they make next, and what stories they have yet to tell”
- thetgirlreview.com
Songs for Tranarchists
Queer punks Trans Panic are back with a full album of raucous, jaunty, punk Songs for Tranarchists. The full album features the four tracks off of February’s Smile (for me) EP, with six new songs to stomp along with. The band maintain their swagger, their brassy confidence, and their sense of humor throughout, with an extra dose of sentimentality to boot. Where you’ll find plenty of the band’s bassy, sardonic punk sensibilities represented on “Billionaire Beachhouse Bash” and “Plea Rejected,” the first new track on the album delves into the land of rockabilly and nostalgia.
“82nd Ave” (a rather infamous stretch of Portland) kicks off with the lovely static of vinyl, that grain taking the listener back to another time, a time of Americana and home-town pride. The main chord progression walks up the scale, the perfect tune for imagining a desolate roadside, the people you pass on the street, the familiar faces of the down-and-outs, “the place for the cast-offs and all the kids who like a little rock.” Trans Panic welcome the listener to the neon signs of greasy spoons, gravy-soaked fries, and the community of the proudly downtrodden. Snare-forward drum rolls keep the track upbeat, a lovely homage to a stretch of town that clearly means a lot to the band, and one that deserves the listener’s appreciation.
The old-school tunes don’t stop there, as the band’s formal trans anthem “Garden of Misfits” can attest. Fuzzy guitars swagger onto the scene with a bravado fit to match lead singer Ruby’s vocals. This bluesy, classic rock hook captures the hard-fought experiences of the trans community as Ruby sings out, “we’re a garden of misfits, our thorns protect our blooms.” And a fiery guitar solo captures that protected beauty, the glory of being who we are, even in a world so harsh as this one. Static-ridden bass continues to churn underneath, keeping tension in the mix. If there’s one thing Trans Panic can do, it’s write a feel-good song about being a fucked-up, queer punk. The song’s final line, “the revolution’s calling, and the victory is queer” might be a little cheesy, but goddamn it, it’s sincere and it makes you want to pump your fist in the air. The rasp in Ruby’s voice suits the tone for this track perfectly and makes it a standout on the album.
And hell, there’s plenty to enjoy. “Billionaire Beachhouse Bash” recounts a tale of breaking and entering, the marking of territory with piss and noise and drugs. “Plea Rejected” offers a great companion to “Smile (for me),” another track about beating the shit out of creeps with a catchy chorus that’ll keep a vicious grin on the listener’s face. All said, it’s a hell of a fun time, and gods know I’ll take a dozen cheesy songs about partying with your friends any day. Catharsis comes in all forms, and sometimes music like this is a lovely reminder that our lives are shaped by more than our circumstances and the laws that attempt to police us. Trans Panic don’t fail to put a smile on my face, and I’m not complaining one bit.
https://transpanicpunk.bandcamp.com/album/songs-for-tranarchists
