Album reviews:
Got It Made
Got It Made

Single reviews:
Work It Out
I Can't Wait
Good Times EP

Live reviews:
London WC2 Borderline
London Camden Falcon
London Highbury Garage

Bis has just found its sister band. Bis meet Brassy. Very poppy, fun, makes you want to dance type of music. If you can usee a kazoo with a straight face on your album, well then you are on fire! This album is so hot it should have been from England; oh wait, it is. The vocals sound a lot like Shirley Manson of Garbage, but I need to stress: Brassy is cooler than anything you'd find in the garbage. It was as if DJ Swettmixed pieces of the Rainbow together and whipped up a little Got It Made. Good job and thaank you for providing me with something I can listen to while I chew Bubble Yum bubble gum. (Nadia Bacon - Skratch Magazine #62)

In the self-conscious race to be momentous and (yawn) life-changing, fun is often forgotten. Most bands around right now are so desperate to matter, they forget to enjoy themselves in the process. You'd hardly think they had the greatest job in the world.
So this debut album from Manchester-based Brassy is a blast of fresh air. Every moment implies the enjoyment they had writing it, the laughter shared recording it, even the band's own exhilaration at immortalising their songs. Put simply, this isn't an album to sit in your bedroom studying; it's a product of life rather than a work of art.
Though over-long (17 tracks!), 'Got It Made' works because of its pure, sleazy irreverence. Effortlessly cool American singer Muffin Spencer's brashly accented vocals rattle off droll one-liners like she wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire, while every new guitar line has a temperamental life of its own, hissing and exploding behind her. Combined, you get recent single 'Work It Out' - one of the most brilliant pop songs this year - which spits like The Breeders with an evil sense of humour.
Brassy won't ever change your world, but take a listen. You might just enjoy it. 6/10 (Siobhan Grogan - NME)

First off, a confession. Some four years ago, two music journalists scraped together enough money to put out three singles by a group from Manchester called Brassy. They were really good, a lithe, groovy, modern twist on new wave with an amazing singer called Muffin Spencer (sister of Jon, for those taking notes). Nothing happened. Like, really nothing. Virtually no press, hardly any radio, absolutely no buzz whatsoever. I was one of those music journalists. I helped (or not) to get Brassy where they were then.
So from a personal point of view it's nice to see they survived the whole gruesome experience and eventually signed to a proper record company. All that need really concern the wider populace, however, is that since those long-gone days Brassy have become a significantly altered beast, tightening up their already hotly impacted riff ethic and adding turntablist skills to aid and abet Muffin's full-grown rebel cheerleader stance. And hey, 'Work It Out' is a ferociously great pop single, the Knack's 'My Sharona' as produced by Mixmaster Mike: gnarly guitars, siren FX and slippy beats, with the post-punk Barbara Stanwyck herself reinvesting the term 'sassy' with some much-needed, erm, balls. Her target? Anyone who isn't cool enough to be in Brassy, essentially: "What you got on your mind/We're getting by without it just fine!". The frenzied scratch break halfway through is pulled off - by demon drummer Jonny Barrington - with no trace of the self-consciousness that invariably blights young rock bands when they attempt to 'get funky', while the "uh-huh" refrain is guaranteed blow-bubblegum friendly.
"Take a look at me now/Got plenty goin' on..." And how. Such is the mark of the Muffin. She sneers, you smile. And that's an order. (Keith Cameron - NME)

Brassy aren't pulling any punches tonight. "I gotta beef witchoo!" howls Muffin Spencer, the PE assistant you were always a little scared of, even though you desperately longed to be picked for her side. We're not dancing hard enough, it appears. Sorry Miss! How about some detention?
Being on Brassy's team looks like the best thing in the world right now. They're one of the coolest small bands in Britain, a taut skein of Muffin's Noo Yawk moves, punky outlook and tuff beats, the province of their sensational drummer, who scratches vinyl with his spare hand. In Muffin, they have a sinewy, sculpted star. What's more, Brassy's forthcoming LP will be the record that Elastica were too washed-up to make. Tonight, their trademark rallying cries - like ace new single 'Work it Out' or 'BRASSY' - are buffed to a high sheen, all deft blasts of new wave guitar and fresh grooves.
But if there is a beef to pick with Brassy, it's this: for now, theirs is a bag of nuggets, rather than a well-tooled strand of gold. They often lack the melodies to string together the shards of genius at their disposal. Songs like 'That's The Way' are just one-liners, told in bursts of guitar that never resolve into a tune. And tonight, Muffin's hectoring sounds less like an invitation, and more like bad temper. She wants us in her gang. But she's gonna have to earn it first. (Kitty Empire - NME)

Isn't that cute? She's showing out. She, of course, is Muffin Spencer, sister of the lord high posho of American indie rock, Jon Spencer, and Brassy is the name of her four-piece Mancunian band. 'I Can't Wait' is a sly combination of what the youngsters call 'phat beatz' and the kind of punky sass that has had certain berks convinced that Luscious Jackson were cool, streetwise Noo Yoik chicks rather than the Beastie Boys in blouses.
Muffin can't wait for all of the following: to fully illustrate her point, to bring down the joint with her microphone, to re-tune everyone to the Brassy way and to stun us with her lyrical know-how.
Sadly, with this likeable enough but hardly earth shattering little missive, she might have to wait a little bit longer. (Jim Wirth - NME)

Those cheekbones. The jet-black eyebrows. That seething snarl. There's no mistaking the Spencer genes in Brassy's singer/guitarist Muffin. But Brassy won't be in the Blues Explosion's shadow for long so compulsive is their bionic punk-funk. Brassy are Elastica sharing a sloppy tongue-kiss with the Beasties, faultless new-wave pop sensibilities hotwired by dusted, blunted hip-hop. When recent single 'Good Times' slips into some white-hot D&B breakdowns, when drummer Jonny dishes out some between-song turntablism, you realise Brassy couldn't have existed any time before NOW. And each song hits the spot so perfectly, so naturally you'd think all pop music was meant for dancing. (Stevie Chick - NME)

In keeping with a long-standing NME tradition, let's start this review by noting that Brassy feature Muffin Spencer, sister of Jon. From here we should go on to say that Brassy aren't as good as the Blues Explosion, but ­ hey! ­ you never know what we're going to say next! So start spreading the news: having finally got a proper record deal after years of trying, Brassy have made good. 'Bonus Beats EP' offers a lean, scratched and skeletal vision of rock'n'roll with the same self-eulogising lyrics and twisted beats her brother employs to increasingly futile effect. Four songs, seven-and-a-half minutes. What can we say? It's great. (James Oldham - NME)

The force is strong with the Spencer family. Not content with having produced Jon to thrill us with his Blues Explosion, Ma and Pa Spencer have also given us his sister Muffin.
So Brassy might be Manchester-based, but thanks to her boxing-gear-clad presence, the attitude is all New York. Which, added to the extended break which saw them disappear after a couple of singles, seems to have done their sleazy art-punk considerable good. This time around, Brassy are frequently great. Like her brother, Muffin is a compelling performer. So even when Brassy's attitude out reaches their ability, she steers them clear from Elastica leftovers.
And, thanks to that New York state of mind, she's taking them in other directions too, mixing in beats, scratching and the flavours of old-skool hip-hop. True, it results in daft skits where they chant their name incessantly, but it also throws up the indelibly cool 'Buffalo Girls' punk of 'Work It Out'.
If the gifts of poetry left onstage are any indication, the kids have already taken this latest addition to the Spencer musical dynasty to heart. Which only begs the question - are there any more like you at home? (Stevie Chick - NME)