STRAIGHT OUTTA SPAIN, HINDS FINDS SUC­CESS >>>

The Georgia Straight - - Music - > BY MIKE USINGER

There was no army of home­grown 2 role mod­els for Hinds founders Car­lotta Cosials and Ana Gar­cía Per­rote to look up to when they started play­ing mu­sic in Madrid. As much as Spain loves its garage acts, the coun­try isn’t ex­actly fa­mous for pro­duc­ing wildly pop­u­lar rock ’n’ roll bands.

Reached on a cell­phone at a Cleveland tour stop, Cosials says the groups that do find some mea­sure of suc­cess tend to be made up of men, of­ten well into their 30s. That’s hardly su­per in­spir­ing when you’re a woman look­ing to form a band.

So the very act of putting to­gether an all-fe­male unit traf­fick­ing in abra­sive in­die rawk was some­what rev­o­lu­tion­ary in Spain when Cosials and Per­rote even­tu­ally hooked up with bassist Ade Martín and drum­mer Am­ber Grim­ber­gen at the be­gin­ning of the decade. And even though Hinds is now firmly es­tab­lished as one of the coun­try’s great DIY ex­ports, the group is still chang­ing the land­scape as it re­leases its sopho­more full-length, I Don’t Run.

“When we started, Spain had zero girls play­ing this kind of mu­sic,” Cosials says in charm­ingly ac­cented English. “We were the only ones, and we were break­ing borders. It was like ev­ery­thing Hinds did was mak­ing his­tory for Spain. It was kind of fuck­ing nuts.”

Hinds started out as Deers, but was even­tu­ally forced into a name change when Mon­treal out­fit the Dears threat­ened le­gal ac­tion. That story got the quar­tet plenty of ex­po­sure in­ter­na­tion­ally be­fore it had even recorded a full-length, early sin­gles then talked up by out­lets like NME and the Guardian.

A 2016 de­but LP, Leave Me Alone, sug­gested a ma­jor love of the bands that spear­headed the fa­bled New York rawk re­vival of the ’00s. And just as bands like the Strokes and Yeah Yeah Yeahs had to win over Eng­land to get a break at home, the mem­bers of Hinds didn’t re­ally taste suc­cess in Spain until they’d built a fan base abroad.

Raves not only in the U.K. but also at the 2016 edi­tion of SXSW would prove in­valu­able.

“In Spain, you don’t ex­pect to travel and tour the world,” Cosials says. “In Spain, you ex­pect to be big only in Spain. So it was never a big dream for us to go abroad and play, but when it hap­pened we couldn’t be­lieve that we did it. We never ex­pected that peo­ple would love us and ap­pre­ci­ate us in so many dif­fer­ent cities. But that’s what hap­pened.

“Right now in Spain we are so much big­ger than we ever dreamed,” she con­tin­ues. “This sec­ond al­bum es­pe­cially has re­ally made a change on our ca­reer. Peo­ple now re­spect us so much, and are so proud that we are trav­el­ling and play­ing all over the world, and telling peo­ple how cool Madrid is. It wasn’t like that when we started out.”

I Don’t Run finds Hinds both con­firm­ing its love of re­vival­ists like the Strokes, and mov­ing its blend of in­die rock and garage for­ward—a sign that the group has started to tran­scend its in­flu­ences. Pro­duced by Gor­don Raphael (who helmed the Strokes’ clas­sic Is This It), the al­bum serves up ev­ery­thing from dis­tor­tion-fraz­zled col­lege rock (“The Club”) to tur­bocharged in­die soul (“Sober­land”) to barbed-wire pop (“Rookie”).

Just as no­table is the way that Hinds has got more dar­ing—which is to say per­sonal—with its writ­ing on I Don’t Run. Take the Thc–dosed new-wa­ver “Tester”, where lines like “Why did you have to kiss me af­ter sex?” and “Why did you have to lie to my face?” are punc­tu­ated re­peat­edly by the ques­tion “Should I’ve known be­fore, you were also bang­ing her?”

“In the be­gin­ning,” Cosials re­calls, “when it was Ana and me, we’d find our­selves go­ing, ‘Where are all the rock ’n’ roll lyrics writ­ten by women? I want to scream things about free­dom and love and feel­ing lost and need­ing my friends, but I want to find songs about that stuff writ­ten by a girl.’ Not sung by a girl, but writ­ten by a girl, be­cause 90 per­cent of the songs you hear on the ra­dio aren’t. It was like, ‘Some­one is miss­ing out reach­ing half of the pop­u­la­tion—i wanna be rep­re­sented.’ ”

Mis­sion ac­com­plished not only for Hinds with I Don’t Run, but also for a new gen­er­a­tion of rock fans in Spain. The singer might have had trou­ble find­ing home­grown role mod­els, but that’s not the case for the kids com­ing up be­hind Hinds.

“The first time I picked up a gui­tar, it was with Ana,” Cosials says. “I’d played vi­o­lin and drums be­fore, but not very good, to be hon­est. We had boyfriends in a band, but play­ing mu­sic was al­ways some­thing we watched in­stead of ac­tu­ally do­ing it. When we broke up with them and picked up gui­tars, we com­pletely fell in love with the sen­sa­tion of play­ing mu­sic. We were con­sid­ered quite rev­o­lu­tion­ary when we started, but even over four years I see quite a difference. Girls come up to us and say, ‘You showed me I could play in a band.’ And that’s awe­some.”

Hinds plays the Bilt­more Cabaret on Mon­day (May 21).

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