Mink Lungs Draws Bikinis and Sailor Suits to CB's Lounge

Mink Lungs CBGB Lounge (July 20) I wandered in the other night to find myself in the midst of Mermaid Parade bikinis and chintzy sailor suits, definitely not the familiar assortment of happily disheveled fans. One sloppily sloshed lady in spandex fins let me know it was a benefit celebrating "Ocean Day," supposedly some big fiesta in Japan. Half an hour (and several beers) later, the Mink Lungs launched into a punky set, high in energy and tight as hell. I staked out my spot up front, fending off would-be revelers dressed like Gidget.

In her scruffy white tanktop topped with fake mink lungs, bassist Miss Frosty was certainly cool. Her sultry half-whisper, half-command propelled "Oscillator" into the sort of critical rant every Tom, Dick or Mary could pump a fist to. "Sensual Pleasure," a better and breathier reciprocation song than the Nails' "88 Lines About 44 Women," made the audience stare. Frosty traded bass for hula hoop, singing all the while and enticing an exceptionally smashed sailor to hula-hoop along. The poor boy couldn't quite handle it, though, and while Frosty spun lustfully, I found myself trying to avoid his thrusts.

Barefoot and sweaty and looking like the happy-go-lucky brother of Jack Black, guitarist Gian Carlo Feleppa tossed out frantic riffs on songs like "Silent Sex," which snappily praises interplanetary coitus. His shining moment came during "Demon Powers of Hell." Summoning up evil-preacher Jimmy Swaggart, Gian shook his cape and handheld light at bikini-clad waifs who giggled nervously. Cape Cod in hand, I cackled at them. Center stage, Tim Feleppa (Gian Carlo's half-brother) sang a different and more lovelorn tune in a Stephin Merritt-esque voice that makes me laugh and mope at the same time. His self-deprecatory pout reminds me of Imperial Bedroom-era Elvis Costello, pop enough to make anyone start twitching.

"Think of Me," the band's most melodic and bouncy ode to failed love, got the seafaring crowd sloshing along to I-hate-me refrains like "sorry I told you/that I love you." Drummer Tom went apeshit like Keith Moon. Halfway into the set, he stepped out from behind the kit to sing on the twangy ditty "Snail": "The world feels softer than eels, but we all know it's a prickly cactus/A rock band is good, as well it should, 'cause all we ever do is practice." In New York, home of studied disinterest, audiences feel the music, but fear the move. Mink Lungs will soon change that.