The Giraffes

Somewhere along the way, rock n’ roll lost its edge and humor to a tawdry compromise with commercial success and the tired hackery that goes along with the trumping of “the next big thing.” Ever since the world has bathed in the hyperbole of bad promotion when a bucket of shit to the face would’ve been just as sufficient. Rock is dead and Chuck Eddy killed it. But for a moment, let’s consider Brooklyn’s own, The Giraffes.

The Giraffes don’t need hyperbole. They are here to play music as loud, as nasty and apologetically rock as they can. See them live and feel free to throw things at them while they play for their just as apt to throw it back at you and make you deaf in the bargain. Yeah, they are serious musicians, talented and dedicated too, but let your ears testify to that.

The Giraffes were formed in the late Nineties by Damien Paris (guitar) and Andrew Totolos (drums); the present lineup coalesced with the addition of Aaron Lazar (vocals) in 2000 and Jens Carstensen on bass in 2007.  Prolific as they are destructive, these boys from Brooklyn have already released three full-length albums and two EPs as well as having toured with the likes of Eagles of Death Metal, Local H, The Means, The Vacation, Skeleton Key and others.

The Giraffes fourth album and debut on Crustacean, Prime Motivator, is about to be unleashed in the Fall.  Thirteen tracks of savage and relentless rock to be sure, but also encompassing the most sonic diversity and tuneful songwriting the Giraffes have produced to date.

“The Giraffes: An orgy coordinated by Rob Zombie and Frank Zappa, and involving the members of Motorhead, the Dead Kennedys, Deep Purple, the Misfits, and Thin Lizzy might have been what spawned this Brooklyn four-piece.”–Ken Switzer, Village Voice

“Demented, pornographic, electric and wide-awake, black and blue and red all over…An absolute must for hard rock fans, and appreciators of the rougher side of the Brooklyn scene.”–Tris McCall, Jersey Beat

“Combines the classic elements of ’70s heavy metal (complete with blistering lead guitar solos and operatic vocals) with the rawness of the punk scene. This is no slick album — there’s a refreshing rawness not present in much of today’s youthful rock. The Giraffes hold back nothing, with porno-inspired lyrics and a sonic nastiness not heard in a while.”–Noah Massey, Car Audio Magazine

“They are the Giraffes, and since 1998 they have been capturing the chaos and comedy of Brooklyn, N.Y., and transforming it into a brilliant blend of brutality and beauty that surpasses the boundaries of both time and genre.”–Austin Powell, The Daily Texan

“The Giraffes opened with an explosive set of ear-tickling anthems, at once bluesy, grungy and melodic. The Brooklyn-based mayhem enthusiasts are perhaps the only remaining band that’s truly dangerous onstage, jumping into the audience, pouring entire bottles of whiskey onto their fans and generally enjoying their roles as rock figureheads.”–John Wenzel, Denver Post

“Metallica and Black Sabbath are the obvious touchstones, but the rhythm section clearly owns a copy of The Who’s Greatest Hits as well. Drug addiction and soccer riots provide fodder for the lyrics, while the flammable guitar work could have only come from someone that’s walked some of life’s hard roads.”–SpinMagazine.com

“Overt is the new understated, and the Giraffes make tasteful seem stupid and over-the-top decadence seem exciting in a sexy, vulgar, campy nighttime way. Damien Paris’s guitar playing is Janet Jackson’s breast, Kelis’s milkshake, Paris Hilton’s midriff. He’s got it, and he flaunts it…Over this, coolly charismatic singer Aaron Lazar spins dark tales of hitchhikers, murder, and vampire sex.”–Alison M. Rosen, Village Voice

“They combine the raw weight of Black Sabbath’s riffs with the cocksure swagger of Robert Plant, but seem to take themselves about as seriously as The Butthole Surfers…like Soundgarden might’ve sounded if all their songs were about wanting to fuck you.”–Stereogum

“The group’s much-anticipated new album, out next month, boasts the kind of yowling vocals, screaming guitars and barreling drum volleys that inspired many a bong hit and fist-pump.”–The NY Daily News