Austin based This Microwave World gets many comparisons to the Rature but I find them to be closer to the Black Octopus Lipstick Project. TMW’s brand of dance punk is a little more goth disco than cowbell romps to get hip math grad students hopping around. When I say goth, I don’t mean the mid-west goths with fangs and velveteen capes, I mean the early 90’s goths who listened to the Cure, Ministry, and Morrissey and did silly baby doll art when they got to college.
Picture, if you will, a young goth girl — pasty skin, torn black shorts, black Chuck Taylor’s, panda bear mascara, Robert Smith hair bobbing as she sways back and forth in a slow-motion jog. Her arms pump limply at her sides and her eyes gaze distantly at the ceiling like her mother is telling her off for coming home late again. She is in a smoky little club, like the one on Pretty in Pink, and she is listening to a band whose lead singer has a bored, dry wit, like a young Oscar Wilde. This moment is brought to you by This Microwave World.
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