consistency is a virtue

You know what band I still love? Bettie Serveert. By simply typing that sentence I realize the degree to which I am placing myself in a very particular indie rock time and place, as the kind of guy who asks questions like “Whatever happened to the Rock*A*Teens” and “Do you guys remember that Matador Toiling Midgets album?” I’m willing to welcome that pigeonholing.

The first record I ever got by Bettie was Lamprey (and to quickly clarify: there is no one in the band named Bettie Serveert — the name is taken from an old Dutch tennis video that translates as Bettie Serves). Matador had a distribution deal with Atlantic at the time, and after their graceful and sublime Palomine, the usual wags were pegging Bettie as the Next Big Industry Thing. Which is bananas, because there was no way a band like Bettie was ever going to be radio-huge.

And there’s a sad thing that happens when a band gets hailed the Next Big Thing and then fails to take off: everyone assumes that they’re a failure. Lamprey, naturally, didn’t ignite, even in the alt-friendly mid-90s radio climate, and people sort of let Bettie go. In a sense, I’m guilty as charged on that front: when they released the very ho-hum Dust Bunnies (on my birthday!) in 1997, I wrote them off as well.

But Bettie Serveert is the rare band whose second act is better than their first. After wandering in the fallow indie wilderness for a few years they regrouped and released the stunning Private Suit, a tiny, tender record about fragility and failure that showcased everything this band was ever good at: brittle-bone guitar lines paired with Carol can Dyk’s sandpaper alto. You couldn’t even really call it a ‘return to form,’ because it eclipsed — and maybe even surpassed — anything the band had done up to that point, pointing the way toward a healthy longevity.

Since then, Bettie Serveert has gone on quietly releasing records, some of them better than others, but none of them total wipeouts. Today, we get their latest, the excellent Pharmacy of Love. It’s a rough, nasty, snarling record, toothy and punky, by far the most aggressive thing the band has ever done, and making me — for the first time — think of Carol and Karen O as inhabiting the same universe. It’s forceful and aggravated, and shows that a band 17 years into their career is still primed to pummel. Highly recommended!