Be Your Own Pet
“I just want to run around/ I just want to party down.” Oh, Jemina Pearl. Where were the girls like you when I was seventeen years old? Filled to bursting with wide-eyed and youthful exuberance, you’re the nightmare incarnate of every mother of a teenage son.
Take your most feverish teen desires, every bad joke, gore movie, sneaked cigarette, questionable pair of pants, homemade haircut, and combine them with approximately two hours of impatient, urgent (awkward) groping with the lights out—hand under the shirt but over the bra—and you’re left with the distilled essence of Be Your Own Pet at their very best.
I remember being backstage with my girlfriend when my friends Awesome Color opened up for these guys. We were drinking beers, conscious of being conspicuously older than almost everyone else in the room. That’s the thing about BYOP: if you’re no longer seventeen and you’re at one of their shows, it’s because you want to remember what it was like. A lot of it was sh-tty, but when you’re seventeen the world is so big and strange that you can believe for a little while that anything is possible.—Andreas Trolf