The Worst of Sailor Honeymoon - review
Written by Christian Mata (@chris_isu_m)
From the onset, Sailor Honeymoon has been committed to doing things differently while being genuine to themselves. Their earlier releases had skits about cockroaches and imagined a task force that regulates women’s bodies. Every song had a message but also a bit. Until now, ripped jeans and heavy shoe aficionados have had to survive on an EP and zines to get their fill of the magnetic group. Now with a full album in tow, the trio make it clear they are charging forward with their special brand of punk ethos and humour.
The band is still coloured with shades of L7, Bikini Kill, or Sleater-Kinney, but they are also finding new shapes in their sound. Chock-full of deadpan spirit, Abi Raymaker feels even more comfortable playing up vocal delivery like a punchline. She’s also added more shake and punctuation to her rhythms across the tracks, from the songs that groove to the songs that punch. Zaeeun’s vocals take on lots of personality between hazy echoes, harmonies, and more aggressive takes. The guitar work feels bolder with some jangle mixed into the raw punk licks and boisterous solos. Yelim’s basslines have that reliable rumble, but it’s funny to hear her basswork play against the vocals on My Band or against the drums on Paperwork: she is sparring as much as she is supporting. The band brings so much attitude, and their music feels necessary.
Every remark in their music is lived in and personal. Pit against the backdrop of a really upbeat pop-leaning sound, Red coaxes the listener to "just take it", starting with red ginseng candy (an acquired bitter taste), then spiralling into being on fire as the sound gets more layered and messy. Click Click is a critique of the small attention economy baron craning our necks: “You gotta update your feed/You’re not hearing me/You think you’re being discreet/No, yeah I can hear your fingers going.” Part of their charm is keeping their targets relatable and concrete.
The Worst of Sailor Honeymoon is essentially a 30-minute playground for the wry riot grrrls to show off new sounds. The band keep their signature depth and grit, but on top of the 90s-2000s garageflair, they are mixing in new elements. Paperwork rides an electronic feel, Having Fun is discordant and surprisingly danceable before its swampy breakdown, the bridge of My Band interpolates a 50s pop standard, and Extinction is absurd. All of this is done at a brisk pace, keeping the wit intact. Reluctance often makes the best royalty, and the nonchalance in The Worst of Sailor Honeymoon exudes effortless cool. Nobody asked them to be the DIY poster child of Korea's punk rock scene, but if the Doc Martens fit.