Sydney-based garage punks Itchy and the Nits are proud of the fact that they like it loud. It’s evident in everything they do, from the Archie’s-style beachfront cover art to the quick and explosive runtimes of the 12 songs on their second album, Greetings From… The band is made up of sisters Bethany Little-Woodcroft (drums/vocals) and Jacinta Little-Woodcroft (bass/vocals), along with Eva McGregor (guitar/vocals), and they most definitely know how to capture the reckless joy of a high-voltage jam.
There’s a very Aussie quality to their whole schtick. From the lyrical themes of nits in the wrong places, to the freedom of a nude beach, and their cheeky grins that literally scream “G’day, mate!” The entire catalogue plays like a genuine friendship fry-up, oozing with the unbridled fun of young belief systems. If you ever lived through the quintessential garage band phase—three friends, a handful of instruments, and an unshakable (if slightly misguided) faith in cannabis—you already know the vibe. And if you haven’t, well… that’s pretty much it.
Their first song, “Theme 2,” is aptly titled, as they collectively sing “Welcome to the Itchy and the Nits show.” It’s actually really cool because you’re instantly transported to that feeling of excitement at a live show where your favorite band is just getting started. The tune itself begins like an early Who song—maybe it’s just that first chord, so very Pete Townshend in its rock-opera brightness, tinged with a bit of suspense. Of course, it then turns into a straight punk chorus introducing the band. At just over a minute, it’s also the perfect length for a theme song for a punk band, so good job. Anything longer would just seem braggadocious.
“Nudie Beach” isn’t subtle in its cheekiness, pun intended. The name doesn’t require much thought; they’re an Aussie band after all, so they could have just as well have called it kangaroos love beers, and it would still make sense. Jokes aside, the song is refreshingly old school punk, like Ramones-meets-Beach Boys, with its happy-go-lucky lyrics about going outside ‘cos the nudie beach is the place to be. After all these years of Green Day and Blink fatigue, it’s nice to skinny dip back to the roots of the genre.
“Smelly boys make me weak in the knees,” is a legitimate lyric from a song called—you guessed it—”Smelly Boys,” and there’s something so silly and sweet about it, especially set against the cutesy (but rough, almost The Chats-like) 3-chord guitar bit. Beneath the ridiculousness of it all, there’s a tenderness to the lyrics, celebrating imperfection and swatting away pretension. It’s a starkly different sensibility from the picture-perfect aroma of modern-day musical characters (looking at you, Taylor Swift). The difference makes them seem human, relatable, and delectably messy.
The song structures of the Nits are pretty straightforward—overdriven guitars playing 2-3 power chords, linear beats, and an irreverent vocal cadence. It’s simple, solid, and effective. Cue the song “Cartoon,” which is no different, apart from the well-used Looney Tunes sound bites sampled on here. Their cartoon aesthetic—like the Archie-style artwork—is in tune with the animation sounds of yesteryear. The quickdraw chorus of “You’re like a cartoon, oh-oh,” is bound to be stuck in your head. These three women know how to write their hooks and do it well. Even Josie and the Pussycats couldn’t do it better.
“Lies,” with its Monkees-like chorus, is an essential 60s punk tune—instantly catchy and concise to the bone. They don’t just have a knack for melody; they’ve pretty much perfected the bubblegum pop sound of the ‘60s, utilizing bright and punchy guitars along with zip-tight structures. Again, the standout of their songwriting has to be these earworms they seem to be able to whip out of thin air, leaving you humming for the rest of the day.
The last tune, “City Line,” is an unexpected mix of Cyndi Lauper with a little New York Dolls. The perfect confluence of Lauper’s singing and the confident struttiness of the Dolls (is struttiness a word?) The vocals reach for a little more expression, while the solo adds a dash of glam, making this sound something they are perhaps preparing us for in their next release.
Through all 12 tunes on this album, the swagger never leaves any of their voices, despite the high registers or the risque lyrical content. There are innuendos and straight shooting galore, covering bad decisions, bad smells, and bad things in your pants. It’s never NSFW, just scandalous enough for a giggle.
The tail end of the album is where the band really shines. It feels like they actualized their original identity, while giving a hat tip to their safety-pin-earring-wearing ancestors, all without losing a step. By the time Greetings From… winds down, you’re ready to hear that first song all over again. It’s a combination of the short duration of their tunes, along with trying to keep up the momentum built during the listen. This band is loud, lovably bizarre, and they’ll stick in your head like an overfriendly nit.
