You believe who you want to believe, not what. A few words on the new Tuts album


There’s a Tuts album out.

Here it is.

That man Caspar has nailed it. I see little point in adding to his bounce. I like their music – A LOT – but right now I am feeling depressed.

This is the end of pop music. The Tuts are like the perfect band. They’re feminist, DIY, two of them are women of colour, and GOD do they write fine songs! Everyone else still in the game can call it quits. From Kate Nash to The Julie Ruin, they’ve been superseded. Shit, even Theresa May would immediately leave Downing Street if only someone would play her ‘Give Us Something Worth Voting For’. I haven’t been a fan of something in a long time – maybe never – but after Update Your Brain I am definitely a fan of The Tuts. And by that I mean a proper fan, in the sense of having a favourite Tut (Nadia), watching their hilarious video diaries (whose hair did clog the bathroom???), and of course singing along to all of the songs all of the time (TUT! TUT! TUT!).

As conflicted and flawed and hypocritical and beautiful as the rest of us.  They’ve clearly got connections most of us can only dream of, but – well, that’s good. Politically charged and motivated, and unafraid of sex and all its attendant smells and spoils, and all that. That’s deffo good. Mates with Kate Nash. A PLUS! Come across as entitled sometimes but – well, that’s good. Nice we have some flawed, conflicted and ambitious women in our court. I guess (because it feels a little reductionist to reduce individuals to ‘sides’). All yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, frankly. The music is all bounce and shimmer and mean laughter and “I’m better than you I am” and short bursts of punk-pop, the sort we loved when we heard similar from Oxford in 1986 and the sort we love now. “It’s not my job to protect your ego,” they laugh and I feel the same way. It’s a bit paper dress vintage in places (not that that’s bad), but then they produce a marvellous zeitgeist-spoiling moment like this, and you figure them to be, Hearts as big as Liverpool.


That song ‘I Call You Up’ is still pure class. Ramalama wonderland as wonderful as Ramones or Undertones or Talulah Gosh or Vivien Girls or Dolly Mixture or whatever delight has delighted you. Likewise ‘What’s on the Radio?’, hopelessly outdated and everything. (I mean, who gives a fuck?)


When I last wrote about The Tuts, I posted the same video a dozen times in one blog entry in an attempt to infuse the reader with a sense of wonderment. Should not need to. Just the name should be enough. You believe who you want to believe, not what. I’m not writing that like it’s a good thing (I’m not convinced it is), more as an observation on behavioural patterns.

Fuck patriarchy. This is a great album.

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