Funky foursome fire out the folk

Kristen Baskin

Full Frontal Folk – sounds like a porno, right? Do not be scared. This is merely the accidental alliteration of four quirky musicians. I recently watched their concert at The Point on Lancaster Ave., expecting the usual acoustic rock musings of a love-beaten emotional wreck, so I brought my tissues and a half-opened memory bank, hoping for the best.

I was shocked to find the theme of relationships strangely vacant from their array of music. Closest to it was “The Anti-Love Song” … and it was about a dog.

They are not opposed to the monogamous relationship at all; they have simply fallen in love with life’s idosynchrasies, appreciating those details that linger beneath the monumental.

Now, how to describe their music? Spunky folk tunes with a hint of bluegrass backed by the most incredible harmonies that I have ever heard.

No member takes precedence over the other in personality or talent; they are all equally essential.

With a 12-string and six-string guitar, a fiddle, percussion and a mandolin, they create the complexity of a symphony. The notes spill endorphins into the air, mixing with their ever-present aura of optimism.

Their songs do not command a way to live or blatantly pronounce how to act; they allow one to simply feel. A sense of freedom comes along with their music; the lyrics inspire one to let go. Along with having ridiculous talent, the artists themselves are as eclectic as their music.

They preferred to sing about things such as road trips, beer, grass and telephone poles. Their lyrics have kidnapped the simplest of situations and disguised them into comedy; and when they weren’t singing, they talked.

The violin player spoke for a good 10 minutes about the gum on her microphone, and when a permed-blonde haired woman named Kathy offered her a napkin for disposal, she was given a standing ovation.

In another musical break they discussed how the guitarist chose bladder over blood when she ran out of the car on a road trip. She got clothes-lined by a tree branch as she ran to relieve herself.

They refer to themselves as the ADD folk band and that’s about what you get. They are a hyper, happy, free-spirited group of women who want to do nothing more than have a good time. Their music is a perfect reflection of that. Their hair alone is a miscalculated paint-by-number and their clothing is a combination of about five decades in one.

The name of their band is not all together inaccurate; in the middle of the show, the lead singer’s dress button accidentally came undone and to the audience’s surprise, revealed a whole new side of her. If miraculous melodies and rainbow hair isn’t enough to catch your attention, you can still hope for a revelation.