Fuck, this is great girl-strewn power garage pop in the firing range of Buck and early Muffs. Nice, bubblegummy thick choruses, catchy lyrics, fuzzed out guitars, and production that’s not too slick and not blown out (so it sounds human and fun without being clinical). It’s the stuff that Josie and the Pussycats wished they could have pulled off, if they had daggers hidden in their Converse and smoked a lot of weed. The Pinkz are kind of like a sweater on fire from a bunch of firecrackers. At first it’s soothing – “Yeah, I like that familiar beat,” snap-snap-snap, then they’re exciting on their own as they toss out these two incendiary little nuggets of songs that make me get up and flail around like a flaming tard. Way cool single. Me play lots.