Punk rock and folk music have a common heart. They share a singalong-round-a-campfire mentality. Things are a bit rough round the edges. There’s an understanding that its time to talk about real issues with honesty. And both are a bit niche; you aren’t going to be hearing either on Radio 1 any time soon.
My Pizza My World embody this heart. They are the proud sole proponents of the laughing, self-deprecating genre of pizzacore; and the message is clear – music is awesome, but let’s not take ourselves too seriously, right? They are currently in the middle of a shambolic tour across the US, playing in squats, tattoo parlours and bars, spreading a message of hope, grounded in reality.
A passing moment,
A missed connection
Something gone before you ever knew you could grasp it.
I’m not totally sure what random combination of searches led to me stumbling upon their EP on bandcamp, but I do know that I love it. The plaintive pitunkerings (yes, yes, not a ‘real’ word) of a banjo, accompany a delightfully homemade-looking upright bass and a tenor ukelele, as their joint female/male vocals ring out and “refuse to waste away”.
The second track “Forgotten” stands out, and has led to me wandering around the house humming the vocal line. It reminds me a little bit of “Restless”, by the shortlived Hot Water Music side project, Rumbleseat. Less of the thudding momentum of Rumbleseat, but similarities none-the-less. The friendly parp of a trumpet on “No Time for Cryin’” also sticks in your head rather enjoyably.
A fragile mindset
Teetering on a hilltop,
Built of stones of regret over a sea of broken glass.
My thoughts on Eat It? Pick it up. Its not the best recorded EP ever, but the lo-fi works in its favour, reminds me of listening to old blues records from the 20s. The lyrics might be pretty far from Blind Willie Johnson’s material 90 years ago, but the discontented souls sound smack-bang the same. Don’t get me wrong, they know how to play, and they can sing too, but that kinda misses the point. With music like this, its not about how well you can play, all that matters is that you are.
…but darlin’ you know me too well – cause I’d rather be lost here then forgotten.