I am the fun blame cookie monster

Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with Menomena! Although I saw them at the Clubhouse awhile back and was totally floored. Some crap band played, too. Oh! And local luminaries Colorstore played a brilliant set as well, totally outshining the crap band.

Okay, 1990s Rough Trade debut Cookies sounds so aesthetically Rough Trade. But seriously, you know that garagey, cocky male, tongue-in-cheek, gritty and totally lovable sound I speak of, no? God I love that sound. It's that trashy and obnoxiously sexy Strokes, Louis XIV and Babyshambles thing. All right, point is 1990s are badass geniuses, and they are well aware.

1990s consists of John McKeown, a Glaswegian guy and former Yummy Fur member, and Michael McGaughrin, who used to drum for V Twin. They like getting drunk, doing drugs and writing songs about all of the above. Alcohol and drugs are sources of inspiration for many, but here's the catch: 1990s are acually talented. It's crazy. You can clap your hands and shake your ass to all of these grooves.

The big-deal single "See You At The Lights" has nicely sporadic hand claps and sweet variations ba-ba's. "Get out like a blonde gets out of a car" makes me smile every time I hear it. Maybe it's because I have blonde hair. Maybe it's because I like getting out of cars. maybe 1990s are just really good and can do whatever they want.

Personally, I really dig "Cult Status." It's a nod to the egocentric apathetic hipster lodged within all of our souls. We don't care about our hair or clothes, or at least we claim not to care. Oh yeah, and we don't care about the ages of our 16--oops 15-year-old love interests. The self-worship trip peaks when McKeown growls: "My cult status keeps me fucking your wife."

Cookies is peppered with man power... I guess. I'm a bit unsure of how to define it. Between quips like "that's what girls are for (clap clap)," on Arcade Precinct, and "I'm glad we made the movie at your place," on opener "You Made Me Like It," it's all one-nighters and no regrets. Kapow. It's a riotous blast of drug-induced sexual energy, raw guitars and giddy sing-along opportunities.