Folk-Punk Duo Girlpool Cranks the Volume

Volume politics aside, "Powerplant" is a rare, perfect document of a once-small band growing ever so slightly and hitting its mark in a big way.

IMAGE: Kacie Tomita.

An all-too-common story these days is how D.I.Y. scenes birth stars who end up burning too bright to remain in the darkness of the proverbial basement. In the case of Girlpool, that basement isn't actually a basement, but a venue in L.A.'s Skid Row called the Smell. The legendary all-ages venue has served as a vital rung in the ascendance of notoriously noisy acts like No Age and HEALTH, and it appears the formerly drummerless folk-punk outfit is destined for a similar path.

Established by Harmony Tividad and Cleo Tucker when the two were just 16-year-old punk kids with overlapping social circles, the duo floored audiences shortly after forming with a debut self-titled EP praised for its wry, plainspoken lyrics sung in beautiful harmony over carefully interlocking guitar and bass melodies. The earnest and provocative subject matter of "Slutmouth" and "American Beauty" added a frayed intensity belying their lack of a proper rhythm section, and the buzz quickly saw Girlpool share the stage with much louder acts. For their part, Tividad and Tucker have mostly just shrugged it off.

"We've always been able to match the energy," says Tucker, Girlpool's guitarist. "The volume has never presented us with an actual challenge."

"Yeah, I think it's even cooler when we're sandwiched between bands that come off as being more intense," says bassist Tividad. "When it's just the two of us playing, it's an interesting twist. It [was] exciting and fresh to be inside of."

After touring in support of their debut full length, 2015's When the World Was Big, which included appearances at major festivals like FYF and Coachella as well as opening slots for Joyce Manor, Jenny Lewis and Wilco, Girlpool finally gave in and added a drummer. The result is this year's Powerplant, an unabashed throwback to the days when fuzz- pedal feminism put the post-grunge underground of the Pacific Northwest on the map.

Where When the World used blank space and abrupt pauses as its primary dynamics, Powerplant is filled with crashing quarter-note percussion and tantrums of feedback that bring to mind that point in the '90s when grunge and college rock enjoyed a brief, slightly awkward overlap. The duo is steadfast in their insistence that the songs were written without drums in mind at the onset, but it's hard to believe their experiences playing for massive crowds didn't have any influence on "Cornerstore" or "She Goes By," by far the heaviest tracks Girlpool has ever written. Still, Tividad sticks to her guns.

"Regardless of the square footage of the space [we're] inhabiting, we're doing the same thing we've always been doing in our living room with just the two of us," Tividad says. "All the outside perception is not our focal point—it's playing the music and being in it that really matters."

Volume politics aside, Powerplant is a rare, perfect document of a once-small band growing ever so slightly and hitting its mark in a big way. Fans of the older material will revel in the near-perfect vocals that have always served as Girlpool's bedrock, while rockists desperate for the good old days of loud guitars and slacker ambience will undoubtedly feel like they've struck gold. With solid songwriting and vivid imagery as the core of its appeal, Girlpool has proven it can succeed at any volume. Should the band decide to ditch the drums and pare it back in the future, it's unlikely its raw power will diminish.

"It hasn't ever been a contest of who's showing up more," Tucker says. "Playing music softly or dynamically can have just as captivating of an effect as a loud, rigorous band. There's no greater or less than when it comes to volume. What makes something captivating is the essence of the music, not how loud the band is."

SEE IT: Girlpool plays Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi Ave., with Snail Mail, on Thursday, May 25. 9 pm. $13 advance, $15 day of show. 21+.

Willamette Week’s reporting has concrete impacts that change laws, force action from civic leaders, and drive compromised politicians from public office. Support WW's journalism today.