US Tour - January 2009 - Shitty press, pour ce que ça vaut...
DIEGO CITY BEAT - Published: 01/20/2009
View froma stool
pictures from un myspace inconnu...
rockers Les Hate Pinks must have felt like the stars were aligned when
they found out they’d be kicking off their first-ever U.S. tour
with TKO label-mates and Orange County legends The Stitches at Bar Pink
last Thursday night.
Escobar, a 37-year-old public librarian from Marseilles, France, was
anything but mild-mannered and wasted no time insulting the crowd. “We
are really happy to play in some pit hole tonight!” he said to
sarcastic applause. “We’ve always wanted to play Mexico!”
Pinks ripped through their trademark ’77-style pop punk full of
sneering taunts and bratty lyrics with songs like “Kissing Cops
with My Ass” and “I Piss in Your Swimming Pools.”
show, Escobar, who closed out the set in bondage head gear, sipped on
a vodka and apple and juice and affably kept the insults going: “It’s
a great shitty bar, a great shitty town.” When the subject of
French literature was broached (music critics really are insufferable
snobs), Escobar’s sneer turned into a scowl. “I don’t
care about books! I just deal with computers!”
No one has
ever accused The Stitches of being pretty, but they were spectacular
Thursday night. The chaos that erupted when they kicked off their set
made Les Hate Pinks’ performance, which was spirited and energetic,
seem downright workmanlike.
Johnny Witmer announced that the show was dedicated to longtime fan
and San Diego resident J.J. Orsborn, who died on Jan. 5. The Stitches
were one of his favorite bands.
hard to be here and not feel his presence,” Witmer said after
the show. “J.J. was San Diego.”
will be back Saturday, Jan. 31, to play a benefit show for Orsborn’s
family at the Ken Club.
Les Hatepinks with the Stitches
The Hatepinks' ferocious punk and dangerous live show is just too good
to last. Tickets available at the door.
most punk rock thing a band can do these days? Well, according to The
Hatepinks, it's not puking onstage, getting naked or putting bags over
their heads and passing out while playing (all of which they've done).
Rather, it's simply not having a MySpace page. Take that, corporate
a somewhat unglamorous side of Marseille, France, The Hatepinks have
been rude, crude and just plain socially unacceptable for six years,
all while tearing up underground clubs and house parties around Europe
with a blend of English-influenced punk and unexpected stage antics
(think, The Damned meets a more sharply dressed GG Allin). According
to frontman Olivier Gasoil, in an interview with a punk zine, the band
doesn't just hate the color pink, but "sandals" (watch out,
San Diegans), "Belgian tourists" and "all the records
you like" as well.
And in congruency
with the destructive and wild nature of the band, they're just too capricious
to last. Their first U.S. tour will also be their swan song as they
plan to break up once they return home. It's safe to say that their
show here is historic, but how often has musical history felt this volatile?
January 6, 2009
Le Hatepinks, the Hacks, Autolite Strike at Funhouse, 9:30 p.m., $7
had the pleasure of seeing the Dead Milkmen reunite. They were smart,
political, subversive (altering their lyrics to "Tiny Town"
to include the verse "I knew a girl named Sarah Palin, she blew
all the roadies for Van Halen") and just as awesome as I wanted
them to be at 16. I bring this up because Frenchies Le Hatepinks give
their songs titles like "I Am A Divorce," "Should I Kill
Myself or Go Jogging?," "Ikea Kitchen (it's like a gas chamber)"
and remind me of the Dead Milkmen in their simplicity, wit, fuck-you-itude
and fevered commitment to promoting the punk rock epitaph that life
is, in fact, shit. They differ in that Le Hatepinks have wrapped themselves
so heavily in a black Snugglie of guttery clichés it's near impossible
to figure out if they are seriously serious or a brilliant, French,
punk rock Spinal Tap. Regardless, it's a treat to ponder the question,
as they are superbly fast, irreverent and raw.
— MA'CHELL DUMA LAVASSAR
Snobbish? No. Très snotty? Mais oui, mes amis! The opposite of
brie-eating sommeliers, Les Hatepinks defy American stereotypes of the
French as pretentious foodies and poets. This bratty quartet plays '80s-inspired
garage punk that's taut, tuneful, and pierced by both skinny-tie New
Wave hooks and snide cynicism: Imagine the Briefs' snarky, smart-aleck
pogo pop given a Francophiliac twist. And they don't spare themselves
from criticism, either, as songs like "I'm a Gimmick (New Wave
Punque Is Fuquing Shit)" prove — that is, if you can understand
Details: In any case, freedom fries will not be served when Les Hatepinks
cook up Frenchie punk for American bellies on Sunday, Jan. 18, at 8
p.m., $6 USD
— By John Graham
Published on January 12, 2009 at 4:23pm
The Hatepinks @ The Funhouse
French punk band The Hatepinks is winding its way across the world on
its farewell tour, and was kind enough to stop in Seattle along the
way. The Wednesday night Funhouse audience was treated to an all-out
punk rock spectacular, complete with plastic bag masks, duct tape, sunglasses
at night, and lots and lots of incomprehensible French. What a fucking