POP-PUNK SASS
Brooklyn trio BOYTOY bring their exuberant rock to Toronto,
Saucy, sleazy, stoned, stupid and satirically spiteful in roughly equal measure — with rare moments of disarming sincerity thrown in just to keep you off your guard — Brooklyn trio BOYTOY conducts themselves with so little seriousness that one suspects the band doesn’t realize quite how good it is yet.
It’s pretty hard, however, to argue with the exuberant punk-pop sass of BOYTOY’s charmingly goodish debut LP, Grackle, recently released on PaperCup Music.
At first blush, duelling guitarists Saara Untracht-Oakner and Glenn Van Dyke, and boy drummer Matthew Gregory Aidala come off like a more estrogen-charged counterpart to raucous young lads like Wavves and Howler.
But sink deeper into Grackle and you’ll hear them coming closer than most to approximating the genretripping insouciance of the young Dandy Warhols, in spirit if not necessarily in sound. Good times.
Sum up what you do in a few simple sentences
“We play rock ’n’ roll music with friends to make us feel good, and make you feel better,” emails Untracht-Oakner.
“We do it in New York and we do it on the road. We’re gonna do it everywhere. We eat honey, and love maple syrup.”
What’s a song I need to hear right now?
“Postal.” An adrenalized three minutes’ worth of Go Go’s-worthy bub- ble-punk giddiness. Raw chicken, wieners, urine and toilet seats feature prominently in the sorta-NSFW video.
Where can I see them play?
The Silver Dollar, Saturday, with Basements, Jaunt and She Wears Black. Details at bit.ly/ynft-boy.