| |  Made in Mexico's photogenic leader, Rebecca Mitchell, is looking so sweet right now. She's standing centerstage, her hair piled high like a high-school prom queen, her glitter-covered dress looking sexy and ruffled. Three gentlemen flank her, all of them sporting their best Sunday-morning attire. They look like they could be attending a wedding reception, or at the very least a very nice dinner. You find yourself wanting to take them home, introduce them to your parents, and bask in their overwhelming good nature.
And then they start to play.
Made in Mexico specializes in raw, guttural, no-holds-barred spazzpunk. It's not meant to alienate the listener, but it will command him or her to headbang. When Mitchell strikes an authoritative stance and grabs the mic, she's no longer the prom queen she's the angry girl who probably should have won, but didn't. Sometimes she sings, sometimes she speaks, and sometimes she screams, all depending on the wall of sound that's being built beneath her. When the band locks into an industrialized groove, they sound like the hardest experimental jam band ever - one whose influences can be traced back to metal and No Wave instead of The Grateful Dead. And what that groove dissolves into a free-for-all instrumental freakout Jeff Schneider's guitar buzzing and wailing, drummer Dare Matheson going into near-epileptic fits, Rebecca Mitchell striking scary/sexy poses at the mic stand well, that's when Made in Mexico simply sounds like Made in Mexico. And there's nothing wrong with that, even when you finally realize you really can't take them home to meet Mom and Dad.
- Andrew Leahey
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