Thing of Beauty
The Beautys
by Chad Beck

It’s time for the sweltering summer and all of its concurrent activities — Morning trips to the liquor store, late-night drinking marathons and the occasional shot of tequila via poorly planned Snakebites and mucho Margaritas. Experts will encourage plenty of water and rest to combat overindulgence and UV rays, but I have a better idea. Instead of fighting the fire that’s consuming your skin and stomach, give it more fuel with Thing of Beauty, an appropriate soundtrack to unbridled revelry by Fort Wayne’s The Beautys.

The Beautys have spent years developing their sound, the results of which are fabulously electro-magnetized on Thing of Beauty, a succulent combination of throat-punching brutality and sweet, hummable sing-alongs. Few bands have the special “oomph” to deliver knockout punches like “Terminus” and “Hello Floor”; even fewer are able to counterbalance with delicious, playful melodies delivered at 100 mph (see “All F**ked Down” and “The Wildwood”). The Beautys perform both with reckless abandon and carefree ease. Frequent road trips to California continue to show up in the band’s surf-instrumental bent, but they certainly aren’t trying to shake their Midwestern working-class vibe. It’s a unique blend that helps The Beautys maintain an original sound without ignoring punk roots.

It’s this amazing ability to transmit sonic lightning bolts that makes The Beautys so powerful, live and in the studio. Thing Of Beauty should put Salsa Dave in the Rock n’ Roll Hall Of Fame for his consistent and furious drumming. Unrelenting in its speed and wallop, Dave’s performance on Thing is the stuff of rock n’ roll dreams ... snare-fills for the gods, backbeats for tattooed angels. Following suit is Erick’s booming bass, snaking in and out of jacked-up tempos and rhythmic kamikazes. Together Dave and Erick alternately sound like AC/DC on speed and Tito Puente covering The Stooges. But the real cherry on top is the charismatic Chica Baby, whose blood-boiling howls and rants are matched only by her explosive guitar. Ripping into eardrum-splitting juggernauts like “F**k Evolution” and “What Drugs?,” Chica belts it out like a drill sergeant for the hard of hearing. Throw in a witty tongue-in-cheek sense of humor and you’re close to grasping the DIY fun that is The Beautys. Kill your summertime blahs dead with Thing of Beauty, adequate proof that music doesn’t have to suck in 2001.

Catch this bunch live at Columbia Street West May 17 for the record release party. www.thebeautys.com for more information.