The Freakin Hott

Finally. After years of proving their worth on many a local stage, Palm Beach County's Freakin Hott have taken their tunes to disc; the wait was well worth it. The trio's brand of raw, guitar-driven, male-female-sung rock loses nothing in this studio translation. If anything, the fact that you can...

By Jason Budjinski

July 6, 2006

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Finally. After years of proving their worth on many a local stage, Palm Beach County's Freakin Hott have taken their tunes to disc; the wait was well worth it. The trio's brand of raw, guitar-driven, male-female-sung rock loses nothing in this studio translation. If anything, the fact that you can actually hear the vocals (not just a muddied nightclub version of them) makes this ten-track album worth seeking out — ten tracks worth of big-ass, '70s-style guitar riffs mixed with catchy, bittersweet power-pop and a dash of country. There are no clever ProTools tricks, just an attempt to capture the band as it really sounds, which is, of course, pretty freakin hott.

The album's opener, "Ayuss Grayuss" (as in "Ass, gas, grass"), and second track, "Brass Snatch," get things going in a straight-up, no-fucking-around fashion — the best way to open any rock 'n' roll album. The third track, "Rotten Apple," takes a turn into pop territory, with Maggie and Aaron playing their vocals off one another in pure '60s fashion. "Old Weird America" rolls along slowly and steadily, painting a landscape of Americana in all its emotionally conflicting glory. "Love/Hate" takes it back to the garage with a fuzzed-out, Motor City-styled jam. The album closes on a soft note with the gentle, drum brush-driven "Killer's Moon." Want a live preview? The Freakin Hott holds a free CD-release party with I Am Stereo at 8 p.m. Friday, July 7, at the Poor House (110 SW Third Ave., Fort Lauderdale, 954-522-5145).

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