Today, many will remember Velocity Girl mainly for the trio of albums they released in the mid-‘90s via the Sub Pop record label. The band’s beginnings stretch back to 1989 however, where they served as one of the foundational acts on the long serving imprint Slumberland. Their debut 45, 1990’s “I Don’t Care if You Go” b/w “Always,” was one of the first signs of life from the soon to be widespread US-based indie pop resurgence, and it continues to come off like a little gem. It also documents Velocity Girl’s brief intersection with the vocal charms of future Unrest/Air Miami member Bridget Cross, an association that only increases the single’s sweetness.
Like most fans of live music, I find it preferable to catch shows in the company of friends. Obviously, the spirit of camaraderie can add much value in the moment and by extension deepen the good memories of said event, making them more vivid than would be the case if simply shared with a roomful of strangers. And more pragmatically, it’s always nice to have someone to talk to in the back of the building when the band on stage is somehow defeating your expectations for the night in question.
But the situation isn’t completely cut-and-dried. For example, I once had a friend whose attitude towards gig-attendance was to skip the preliminaries and arrive at the club as close to main event as possible. Only on a rare occasion would an opening act inspire his interest, and when it didn’t he could be downright crafty at stretching out the duration of pre-show rituals such as record shopping, dining, and imbibing.
Yes, one round of drinks would inevitably become three, and subtle hints to move our asses across town to the floor in front of the stage would naturally get deflected. Since using a more direct motivational approach risked injuring the guy’s rather fragile self-esteem, a result that was far worse than missing nearly any opener, more than a couple of opportunities to witness opening bands, some of which went on to much bigger things, were missed by myself and others of our mutual acquaintance.
It came to the point where I simply had to put my foot down and tell this gent that I’d meet him onsite for future shows. Happily, no hurt feelings resulted, and we ended up sharing some pretty good nights for a few years afterward. I took in the whole experience, he did his own thing, and everything was, as they say, cool. Eventually, our paths drifted apart as friendships are wont to do, but that’s not really relevant to this review.
Very much germane to matter at hand though, is that I asserted my inalienable right to witness opening acts just in time to glimpse Velocity Girl in support of Galaxie 500 from inside the hallowed environs of Washington, DC’s 9:30 Club, then in its rugged and tiny original F St. locale. The year was 1990, and while my recollection of it all is by this point understandably hazy, I can reflect with assurance that Velocity Girl’s compact set felt like a breath of fresh air from inside a room that was, amongst other things, legendarily dank and, in those days, reliably clouded with a haze of cigarette smoke.
And the crispness of Velocity Girl’s motions helped to provide this writer with a vital dose of discovery in relation to the everlasting worthiness of the indie pop form. For prior to seeing them, my main exposure to this essentially British movement had come through the acquisition of a few records by bands on the UK labels Creation and Postcard. And while I was also cognizant of the homegrown indie pop-inspired rumblings from Calvin Johnson’s still young K Records empire, the gaps in my knowledge of the genre were still pretty large.
In full candor, some of those holes were really canyon size. For instance, I knew of the New Musical Express-sponsored C86 compilation, a document that was simply crucial to indie pop’s growth from its early-‘80s post punk beginnings, only by its already sizable status and not through firsthand awareness. This meant that at this point I had no inkling Velocity Girl had swiped their moniker from the title of C86’s leadoff track, a doozy from Primal Scream.
In terms of influences, the group that I watched in wait of Galaxie 500 mostly reminded me instead of a less minimal, larger scaled extension of that aforementioned K Records sensibility, and if their performance was but the tip of a personally revelatory indie pop iceberg, as a DC band (though to be accurate they actually formed in nearby College Park, MD) the songs Velocity Girl played were also instantaneously expanding my conception of the Capitol City scene.
And they ended up a major factor in the blossoming of the Washington, DC musical landscape, helping it to grow beyond the poles of Dischord Records-derived post-hardcore power-booting and Go-Go-spawned goodness, not only through their involvement with fledgling Slumberland, but also by appearing on compilation releases from area labels like Simple Machines and Teen-beat. And notably, this relationship with the latter imprint, Mark Robinson’s admirable and still extant labor of artfully approached and yes, oft pop-inclined indie activity, runs much deeper than just a comp cut.
For the woman who sings on the A-side of Velocity Girl’s first single quickly exited the band to help usher Robinson’s group Unrest from its earlier manifestation as an eclectic and quite fascinating example of post-HC-descended indie art-rock and into their more cohesive, but just as appealing and far more pop-leaning final phase.
Those holding admiration for Bridget Cross’ contribution to Unrest and her subsequent involvement with Robinson in the too-briefly existing Air Miami are likely hip to her short tenure in Velocity Girl. In fact, the cuts in which she figures (a grand total of three) were also part of a self-titled 6-song comp EP released by Slumberland in 1993.
That disc also features “Forgotten Favorite.” Sung by Cross’ able-voiced replacement Sarah Shannon, the tune became one of the major statements in early-‘90s US indie pop and one that ended up selling platinum as part of the soundtrack to the Amy Heckerling-directed Alicia Silverstone-starring film Clueless.
That ’93 EP remains a winner (and notable for its absence is the band’s recording debut “Clock,” a strangely lo-fi excursion that appeared on Slumberland’s inaugural release, a 7-inch comp titled What Kind of Heaven Do You Want?) But I tend to get an even bigger charge out of hearing Velocity Girl’s debut single in isolation, for it embodies one of the finest of all musical virtues by spotlighting a group in its early stages, finding them shaking off the manacles of tentativeness and taking their first big step at getting heard.
And one of the best aspects of “I Don’t Care if You Go” is how the band’s confidence and togetherness seems to audibly grow as the song progresses along. While certainly never out of synch, the track’s first half does offer the vibe of a group gradually locking into a collective synthesis, a comfort zone that becomes fully realized in the second section. As such, it’s a snapshot of formative ambition that often gets lost when a young outfit resists the urge to record in the pursuit of perfection.
On the other hand, when those pangs of desire for getting onto tape just as quickly get pressed onto vinyl, the result can often be quite underwhelming, but that’s thankfully not the case here. “I Don’t Care if You Go” is a smartly constructed song, and one that also situated Velocity Girl as being more than just a specifically indie pop proposition.
Wielding a two guitar attack from Kelly Riles and (the also soon to depart) Benny Grindel that weds considerable distortion to a line of cleanly strummed beauty, the cut’s complexion is just as much shoegaze as indie pop. Additionally, Archie Moore’s bass looms large in the mix as James Spellman’s drums lay down a tidy and nicely expressive beat from underneath the guitar tones.
But it’s Cross’ voice that really brings it all together. Even at this early point, she held a firm grasp on an engaging and undeniably Brit-motivated melancholy. She oozes fragile sweetness that in accord with the instrumentation gathers a head of self-assured steam as it all moves forward, and by the end Cross manages to lift a swell song into the realms of pure gorgeousness.
For the flip she switches to bass as Moore sings on a number that’s even more invested in the aura of shoegaze. “Always” is also heavier and more closely attuned to the general heft of rock, but in examining these elements it doesn’t lose its focus on shaping a sound that was substantially different from u-ground USA’s period norms of noise rock and emerging grunge.
A very large bass line opens the mid-tempo tune, and as the guitars enter the equation they lack the A-side’s popish strum, instead emitting a thick tide of amplifier burn. As Spellman lends rhythmic energy, Moore’s emoting unwinds with aptly sluggish force that’s accentuated by its savvy placement in Barrett Jones’ mix. While not as charming as “I Don’t Care if You Go,” the flip’s high quality does shape this into a highly successful 45, and one that’s much more than a footnote for a band that ended up achieving a significant indie profile.
Cross and Grindel’s replacement by vocalist Shannon and guitarist Brian Nelson didn’t greatly alter Velocity Girl’s approach, at least not initially. Their Sub Pop debut, ‘93’s very good Copacetic, still retained the additive of shoegaze, but the following year’s ¡Simpatico! found them shifting away from it for a more purely indie pop direction. It was still a strong effort, and on the subject of full-length records, only their swan song, ‘96’s Gilded Stars and Zealous Hearts is a disappointment, though it’s nowhere near as bad as some have described it.
But Velocity Girl was just as much a singles band as an album one, with most of their 7-inch (and compilation) discography being out of print for some time now, a state of affairs that definitely extends to this 45 and that previously mentioned ’93 EP that, once upon a time, dished up this pair of tracks for wider consumption. That means those wishing to own them on vinyl will need to do some serious digging, or at least a little bit of searching around the internet marketplace, if they want to acquire either version.
They did amass enough out-of-print material that a release compiling it is certainly warranted. And I’d definitely be tempted to buy it, since I’ve still not heard their Merge Records disc composed of New Order and Beach Boys covers, and the group’s treatment of Echo & the Bunnymen’s “Seven Seas” has been lost on me as well. A nice little singles collection would go far in cementing Velocity Girl’s already firm reputation as a very fine band, and as these two songs make plain, ‘twas such from the beginning.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
