Priests Turn Nostalgia Into Post-Punk Fire on “JJ”

Since their formation in 2011, Washington, D.C. band Priests have largely existed in the present. Over an EP, two tapes, and one single, they have cut into the distressing power dynamics of contemporary society with a snarl. But for “JJ,” the first single off their debut full-length, Priests are transported by nostalgia, as if a sudden whiff of perfume on a worn leather jacket opened old wounds. The past is not a friendly place, not to singer Katie Alice Greer, as a former object of her affection crawls into her memory: “When I met you, you were just a bad attitude,” Greer howls, “I can’t believe I always had such awful taste…”

Over surfy, shimmying guitars and a twinkling piano, Greer and her elastic growl reflect on bygone self-assurance, days when cigarette brands could work like masks. “You thought I was disgusting,” she murmurs, quickly reeling away from any longing and throwing herself headfirst into a leery reality. “Who ever deserves anything anyway, what a stupid concept.” Suddenly, the moment is crushed; was it ever worth remembering in the first place?

Priests have hit this note before, though in more explicitly political terms: “How easily we forget in order to live,” Greer sang on 2014’s “Design Within Reach,” articulating the dangers of blissful ignorance. On “JJ,” Priests suggest that, though wisps of memory might be agonizing to relive, they are useful reminders. The past always informs the present.

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