Tae Won Yu

Kicking Giant was a true wonder of the early-mid ‘90s, emblematic of the indie pop/riot grrl surge of the era. The duo of drummer Rachel Carns (later of The Need) and guitarist Tae Won Yu were fanzine favorites and appeared on all the prominent pop comps of their day (Kill Rock Stars, Throw, Julep, International Pop Underground Convention); they also gave Liz Phair her first release, back in her Girly Sound era, on the Chinny Chin Chin comp. Originally based in NYC, where they met during college, they’d eventually move to Olympia, WA and sign with K Records, releasing one official album (1994’s classic Alien I.D.) before disbanding. Seeing them headline an overwhelming five-band bill my freshman year of college was one of those moments where persevering through the undue generosity afforded on a weeknight every so often was rewarded. I needed to see that band. They tore down the façade, said the words that I didn’t yet have. Halo, a CD release on Spartadisc forever consigned to disappear in the 7” section due to its oversized origami sleeve, culled tracks from their three previous cassettes, and this public-service reissue ropes in the majority (20 tracks) from that release. There are more mixtape staples on here than you’d think possible, a homespun collection of stripped-down, genderqueer love anthems and ballads, laden with youthful sincerity and dripping with hormonal lust that squelches through the confusion. In 2018 the explicit tone of some of these songs, both in the way they dug into those melodies, and in the stance carried by these compassionate libertines, leaps out. The kind of words and sentiments expressed herein feel far more loaded in a world where lines of consent are on the verge of being redrawn, and the innocence they once carried in a world where we weren’t all that personal with one another on the scale that we are now very nearly makes some of this music dangerous on its own terms, and incalculable in the way that cell phones could circumvent the bulk of mystery narratives authored before 1990. It’s a weird feeling to associate with a wonderful comp, but there it lingers. (https://www.drawingroomrecords.com) (Doug Mosurock)