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Lovebettie
… And We’re Never Coming Back
(self-released)

 

Lovebettie’s debut album, … And We’re Never Coming Back, sounds like two distinct bands battling it out. Is this a Triple-A band that sometimes rocks, or a post-grunge alternative band with an expansive, sensitive underbelly?

Part of the sonic divergence comes from two songwriters taking turns at the mic: keyboardist Alexandra Naples, whose bluesy voice shines on the ballads, and guitarist C.T. Fields, who tends to chime in on the riffier songs. Supporting them are understated bassist Matt Sharrow and drummer J. Banks.

From my perspective, the more restrained material feels most natural. Particularly memorable is “Dirty Mary,” the tale of a down-and-dirty femme fatale, in which Naples’ voice soars and growls with a touch of Fiona Apple, and Fields lays down creepy tremolo guitar over the piano lines. “Blue Skied,” also featuring Naples and her piano, is cleanly arranged and pleasantly understated. Fields also takes a more mellow turn on “Long Way Home,” a mid-tempo pop-rocker that hearkens back to Matchbox 20.

With a fistful of catchy melodies, Lovebettie’s lyrics skate under the radar, and seem consciously simple — one song contains the lyrics, “I keep it honest / with a modest view / And I keep it obvious / why can’t you?” The band also occasionally uses country-style punning in its angsty songs — turning “sycamore” into “sick-amour,” and “marionette” into “I’ve married the net of you,” over a Soundgarden-style riff — which is frankly silly.

The group may still be figuring out its sound, but if its rock-challenge ancestors Brownie Mary and The Cool Grand are any indication, Lovebettie should have no problem attracting an audience here, with a shot in the wide world. And the awesomely triumphant power ballad “Worst of Me” is exactly the sort of song a Nashville songstress could ride to the top of the charts — seriously, they should sell it to Faith Hill and get big and rich.

E-mail Aaron Jentzen about this story

17 replies on “Lovebettie releases its bipolar debut, … And We’re Never Coming Back.

  1. LoveBettie

    Artless, Soulless Professionalism Bland Enough to Go Quadruple Platinum In 1998

    This bland little four-piece refer to their sound as “alternative/soul/rock.” Their band bio, clearly self-composed, describes their sound as “innovative,” “original,” containing “unforgettable hooks,” and “magnetic rhythms,” which make them a) retards, or b) liars. The Ohio post says “Lovebettie plays indescribable music,” which means either the staff at the Ohio post are incredibly lazy, or they really mean, “So lifeless and tame, this is the musical equivalent of a soft fart in an empty church.” If the members of Lovebettie were capable of any kind of impartiality, they might realize their target genre is not only irrelevant by roughly a decade, but more closely akin to “adult contemporary.” I’ll begrudgingly admit that the musicianship is passable, (the playing, not the writing) but they have not managed to create a song that does not sound like either a) a flaccid, passive-aggressive message to some vexed lover, or b) a watered down, ultra low fat, diet post-grunge cash-in.

    This album, “AND WE’RE NEVER COMING BACK,” a title that demands the listener to hold them to their word, is an uneven and generally bloodless, premeditated effort to satisfy a marketplace that exhausted itself and died quite a while ago. This very fact makes it problematic when accusing them of opportunism. If they honestly consider themselves a “frenzy of talent and songwriting,” and “innovative alternative rock,” perhaps they should sit down together and give long thought to the relative artistic merits of a calculated copy of a copy of a copy of a market ten years old that was, objectively, pretty fucking lame in and of itself to begin with.
    (Note “Matchbox Twenty” reference by Reviewer)

    Of course, since Pittsburgh’s music scene (and overall culture, really) is ten to twenty years behind schedule, closed off and malnourished to the bone anyway, their existence is only natural, but it’s certainly not excusable, and I shall not equivocate or withdraw the slightest bit even though their only excuse might be their provincial naiveté.

    Music (and self-deception) like this tends to suggest that the members are 1) Christian, 2) Sexually Frustrated, 3) Melodramatic and I get the idea that LoveBettie are collectively all of the above. The vocals are typically sung by Alexandra, (who seems to have a perpetual nosebleed) and from what I understand she is responsible for the ballads, which are admittedly, as the reviewer indicates, less embarrassing than the white-as-mayonnaise, up-beat frolicks contained on the tracks fronted by, one assumes, perhaps erroneously, a man. Still, the piano ballads are overwrought, plodding, and “Blue Skied” vaguely sounds like the Cheers theme in the beginning. Barely any dynamics here, no compelling expression, but it sure is PROFESSIONAL! All of this mid-tempo shit would be interesting in the hands of a capable songwriter, but Alexandra just tramps along, not really changing the “piano intro, nasal wailing, piano outro” structure in any of her feature tunes, perhaps relying on her tall hair to compensate for these dry serenades. Zzzzzz….

    The aforementioned man, so-called, is permanent wearer of stupid hats and self-satisfied facial expressions, C.T. Fields, (he’s also the guitarist) who expertly cranks out highly predictable guitar riffs, which superbly compliment the highly predictable everything else. Curiously, in every single band photo, he’s wearing that ridiculous Newsies hat. Incredible. I imagine some frightful conjoined twin jutting hideously from the top of his head, controlling his every move. Poor Mr. Fields must endure, day after day, the furrowed stares of bewildered pedestrians, and surely, he overhears their scathing remarks: “Why does he always wear that hat? Is he bald? Does he have a nasty Gorbachev? Is it the 1930s? Is it Irish pride? How do post-grunge and Herringbone caps go together? Have you heard that song “Lies?” Is it not the most insipid, clumsy, po-faced pastiche of a thankfully bygone genre you’ve ever heard? How can he look so fucking smug? I bet he sits down when he pees.”

    On C.T.’s personal myspace page, his About Me section reads as follows:

    “Musician, producer, singer, songwriter, writer, poet, philosopher, graphic designer, photographer, all around creative personality.”

    Heroes: “Ghandi, Mother Theresa, the creator of pez candy”

    If there are three things I hate, (four, if you include LoveBettie) it’s

    1) Anybody married to the singer of their band who wears dumb fucking hats and believes in god that claims they are a “philosopher.” Philosopher! Haaa! A philosopher of what? Genre cash-ins?

    2) Emasculated weenies with fat, stuffy faces who claim to be musicians, producers, singers, songwriters, poets, graphic designers, photographers, and all around creative personalities but are in reality just emasculated weenies trying to get their vanity project (co-run by their gullible wives) off the ground with corrupt motives, victimizing and insulting the music listening public, (while wearing stupid goddamn hats on top of it!)

    3) Ghandi, Mother Theresa, and the creator of pez candy, three things which obviously do more to prove that God doesn’t exist than he does. (Mother Theresa, like all nuns and many other con artists, also wore a stupid hat. Coincidence?)

    Of course, I would never want to give anybody the idea that Lovebettie is exclusively a mercantile effort. I know, referring to yourself as “marketable” is kind of crass, but hey, you gotta put yourself out there, like say, when your band name is smeared approximately ONE HUNDRED FUCKING TIMES on your myspace page. I don’t know what is more disconcerting, the fact that they are such pushy and shameless promoters, or the fact that I was annoyed enough to sit there and try to quantify their complete and utter lack of dignity that amounts to their obvious cynical commercial ambitions that masquerade as “buzz worthy and captivating” alt rock.

    This is one of a few bands in Pittsburgh, (a rather impractical inclination), in which the guitar player’s wife is the singer of the band, an ill-advised arrangement that can never fail to be both bad for everyone else in the band and hilarious for anyone outside of it who witnesses intra-band-marital conflict. The “everyone else” I’m referring to are the bassist and drummer, whom the reviewer discreetly refers to as “understated,” which I think means “non-existent,” or “pushed violently into the background by a woman achieving Amy Winehouse,visually, and Kermit the Frog, nasally, and a permanently arrogant newsboy/philosopher achieving pigeon turds creatively.” One gets the idea, (“bi-polar,” as the reviewer states), that these two love-birds are writing feeble little messages to each other with each song, either because they can’t communicate in real life, or perhaps they just need to get the fuck away from each other. If the relationship is anything like the music, they must be overwhelmed with monotony, uniform disgust, and erectile dysfunction.

    Aside from J. Banks the drummer’s minor misdemeanor, (stop wearing fucking sunglasses when you play, it’s not cool, you look like a retard) I have no legitimate beef with the bass player and J. “Shades” Banks; the feeling is more akin to a delightful admixture of sympathy and amusement at the thought of you two sitting quietly together exchanging knowing, frustrated glances and rolling your eyes while C.T. and Alexandra invariably start screaming at each other. Who “wears the boots” (see Dirty Mary lyrics) in this house, guys? Does C.T. wear the hat to compete with Alexandra’s hair? Does she push him around? Do creative conflicts degenerate into C.T. accusing Alexandra of cheating on him? Is it with one of you guys? Better keep cool, fellas. Does C.T. almost start crying during these outbursts? Does he ever throw his hat in a red-faced mincing display of rage? What’s the top of his head look like? Oh, so much left to the play of imagination.

    Let me make this perfectly clear:

    LoveBettie is disinterestedly and thoroughly, limp-dicked, unoriginal, irrelevant by 10+ years, and therefore, crap.

    If you like LoveBettie you’re a moron. Re-evaluate your sensibilities, and probably your life, while you’re at it, dumb shit.

    If you have any appreciation for art, you must take a hostile position against a band so deliberately designed, profit-motivated, and consequently, creatively bankrupt.

    C.T. “Socrates” Fields – Throw away your Newsies hat. It’s an affectation, and it adds baggage to a face that’s already douched…got it? By the way, I read your poems:
    They’re fucking gay.

    Alexandra – Baby, I know C.T. is like, four or five years older than you, and he let you be the singer of his band and all, but he’s only doing it because you’re vaguely hot, and basically the only reason people give your band a chance is because they like to watch vaguely hot girls trying to be sexy and cool onstage. Go solo, princess. I know C.T. is older and probably seems wise, being a philosopher, poet, lover of God, Mother Theresa, Ghandi, and Pez candy, and surely those big, self-important lips are so darn tasty lookin’ to an impressionable young lady such as yourself, but trust me, I know the type. He’s probably been steadily undermining your confidence since you were married so you’ll never run off and realize you’re dating a deceptive twat whose inability to write an original song or have an original thought or have an original erection is as fixed as his hat to his head. What’s he hiding under there anyway? What else might he be hiding from you? Divorce that jerk-ass, baby doll! Get yo’self a man with some SOUL and some fuckin’ LONG HAIR who thinks that hats are dumb and knows a vaguely hot girl should be in front of his zipper and not in front of a microphone.

    To the members of LoveBettie: I would tell you all to quit the band, and get thee to thy day jobs, but I don’t want to inadvertently embolden your resolve to succeed in defiance of my frank assessment of your efforts. I accept your existence, but I will never accept what you do and what you stand for. It is in direct opposition to anything good and decent in the wide world.

    P.S. Go watch them play with Donnie Iris on Feb 21st, if you’re the kind of person that likes two bad things worse together.

  2. wow buddie…seems like you definitely have some kind of a personal problem with this band or at least one of the members in it. You’re way too psychotic for just a casual observer. I pity anyone who crosses your misguided path! Good luck in your anger management therapy sessions!

  3. Lol. If I didn’t know any better, I would say this person is a little more on the obsessed side than the disinterested and horrified by their music side. A little too passionate of a novel not to have some personal connection. Get a life dude.

  4. Is it possible that “lovewilma” is some pathetic soul who can’t seem to get their own music career off the ground and resents other people that can? And that you believe that you are some almighty and musically gifted saint/lunatic that can’t seem to get noticed? It’s one thing to rant about bad music…. but to go into some dream land about the inner love battle of the artists and the hats they wear for 20 paragraphs sounds like a stalker nutjob that has nothing better to do than feed their own warped ego with their fucked up soap opera imagination. If you are practicing for a future job working for Rolling Stone…..people would like to hear more intelligent music criticism other than “ten to twenty years behind schedule.” And people don’t give a shit that you obviously must have been raped by someone wearing a hat.

  5. Hahahahahahaha hmmmm, could “lovewilma” possibly be a jealous ex-band member? hahahaha so sad 🙁

  6. I don’t know if this was a lover’s quarrel….but

    As an outside observer of Lovebettie I have to admit that the comments posted by Lovewilma were hilarious and extremly well written!

    After attending a few Lovebette shows I’ve developed a similar opinion of the lackluster band.

    Cheers to lovewilma and all with an original thought!

  7. Dear Lovewilma Fan,

    Perhaps you can ask your mentor “Lovewilma” for some writing and spelling tips… the word you were striving for in your blog entry is correctly spelled E-X-T-R-E-M-E-L-Y, dumbass.

  8. Lovewilma here, once again.

    Allow me to address the band directly, since I’m pretty confident that Diggs20 and HumoredAtBest are Lovebettie members, given the priggish tones, proximity and number of comments.

    Diggs20:
    3 Comments, first one, and then another one a mere eleven minutes later, the amount of time it took him or her (undoubtedly one of the Lovebettie band members) to angrily squeeze out a clumsy, retarded paragraph.

    Comment 1:
    “Lol. If I didn’t know any better, I would say this person is a little more on the obsessed side than the disinterested and horrified by their music side. A little too passionate of a novel not to have some personal connection. Get a life dude.”

    Obsessed? Passionate? Yes, I completely let loose the fact that I’m obsessed and passionate about bare-faced frauds and mediocrities being dragged out into the open and flogged. And exactly how can one be both “disinterested and horrified?” And you made fun of poor little lovewilma fan’s spelling. Tsk tsk tsk. He might make occasional spelling errors, but at least he knows what words mean. LOL!

    Comment 2:
    “Is it possible that “lovewilma” is some pathetic soul who can’t seem to get their own music career off the ground and resents other people that can? And that you believe that you are some almighty and musically gifted saint/lunatic that can’t seem to get noticed? It’s one thing to rant about bad music…. but to go into some dream land about the inner love battle of the artists and the hats they wear for 20 paragraphs sounds like a stalker nutjob that has nothing better to do than feed their own warped ego with their fucked up soap opera imagination.”

    Even if I were a “pathetic soul” with a failing music career, it would not change facts. I don’t resent talented, intelligent, innovative musicians; just untalented, dim-witted cretins who are a vacuum of artistic innovation. And yes, I am an almighty-gifted-saint-lunatic, that’s how I’m able take passing glances at personal myspace pages and vividly envision how comical the guitar player and singer must be during band conflicts. Typing that review was easy because Lovebettie’s an easy target, because writing is easy for me, and because they deserved every foul word I put in it. I didn’t labor over it; I didn’t froth at the mouth. You’re actually quite fortunate I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about you. You’d be whimpering a lot harder if I had.

    “.people would like to hear more intelligent music criticism other than “ten to twenty years behind schedule.”

    Well, try this sentence if you didn’t read the article:
    “If the members of Lovebettie were capable of any kind of impartiality, they might realize their target genre is not only irrelevant by roughly a decade, but more closely akin to “adult contemporary.”

    Is that not clear enough for you C.T., err…uh, I mean DIGGS20? I’m trying to indicate three things here:
    1. Lovebettie is not self-aware or intelligent to realize that they’re awful. In fact, they probably think they’re great, which is both exasperating and hilarious.
    2. Their co-opted genre is old, sterile, and dead for good reason
    3. Their product is even lamer than the foundation from which they work, since it’s a mind-numbing retread.

    Clear enough? Intelligent music criticism. Like what, for example? Like, say on Lovebettie’s myspace page, “an infectious frenzy of talent and songwriting that is brought to life by unforgettable hooks, magnetic rhythms, and a style that slingshots to the forefront of the alternative rock genre!”

    That’s objective, right?

    I’m supposed to be gentle to a band that writes such blatant, entirely off-base and nauseating self-praise? Whew! You guys are cute. Doltish and infantile, but still, cute.

    Then, of course, the third comment a few days later, to attack the spelling skills of someone who happened to agree with me. It seems more so that Diggs20 himself (or herself, if it’s C.T.) is “obsessing,” by following the comment section on a daily basis, which powerfully suggests it’s one of the band members at work here.

    And yes, Diggs20, I was raped by a man wearing a hat. His name is C.T. Fields, and his song “Lies” raped my ears and sense of decency.

    HumoredAtBest wonders aloud why, if I found the band to be so disinteresting, that I wrote a long-winded condemnation, or as you put it, “a several page dissertation of assumptions.” My assumptions, sweet pea, are based on an established body of facts, because not only are they BORING as fuck but they’re vain glorious ninnies whose ruthless self-endorsement makes me fucking sick. If they were just boring as fuck and not smug, soulless, deluded, morons, I would not be this cold-blooded about it and make such ridiculous personal insults. I never would have bothered to type this up. And I think it’s pretty clear I’m speaking with a band member, which I never have been, as you lamely suggest. Is this Alexandra speaking? You and C.T., sassing off on the internet when you should be writing sub-par ballads. Please babies, let me do the critical thinking from now on.

    Lastly, from Pam Naples:
    “You’re way too psychotic for just a casual observer. I pity anyone who crosses your misguided path! Good luck in your anger management therapy sessions!”

    Oh, please, even a casual observer should be offended by this calculated garbage, at least anyone twenty-five years and older with any sense of historical context.

    That’s about all I have to say in response to these flaccid little rebuttals. If you are confused refer to my original post. I know it’s lengthy, painful, and that reading comprehension is not a strong point for alternative rock acts, but I think I’ve covered this topic quite exhaustively. If anyone cares to debate, I’m more than willing. Don’t expect me to be polite, though.

  9. By the way, note that the first comment from Pam Naples (the woman who suggested I get anger management therapy for having an opinion) is probably sister or mother to Alexandra Naples(lead singer), which probably resulted in a phone call, and a hilarious chain of events that further support the likelihood that the majority of the bungling rejoinders I received are from the band members themselves. Side-splitting? You bet.
    Xoxoxo!

  10. Despite his or her cold-hearted and crass tone, lovewilma does make some fair points. Lovebettie’s Myspace page is nothing but tranparent self-promotion. Listeners aren’t aching for “professional” music, they want genuine, inspired music. I know the members of Lovebettie have to pay the rent, but isn’t there a better way than shameless idiolatry?

  11. Circ. #2

    LoveBettie

    Artless, Soulless Professionalism Bland Enough to Go Quadruple Platinum In 1998

    This bland little four-piece refer to their sound as “alternative/soul/rock.” Their band bio, clearly self-composed, describes their sound as “innovative,” “original,” containing “unforgettable hooks,” and “magnetic rhythms,” which make them a) retards, or b) liars. The Ohio post says “Lovebettie plays indescribable music,” which means either the staff at the Ohio post are incredibly lazy, or they really mean, “So lifeless and tame, this is the musical equivalent of a soft fart in an empty church.” If the members of Lovebettie were capable of any kind of impartiality, they might realize their target genre is not only irrelevant by roughly a decade, but more closely akin to “adult contemporary.” I’ll begrudgingly admit that the musicianship is passable, (the playing, not the writing) but they have not managed to create a song that does not sound like either a) a flaccid, passive-aggressive message to some vexed lover, or b) a watered down, ultra low fat, diet post-grunge cash-in.

    This album, “AND WE’RE NEVER COMING BACK,” a title that demands the listener to hold them to their word, is an uneven and generally bloodless, premeditated effort to satisfy a marketplace that exhausted itself and died quite a while ago. This very fact makes it problematic when accusing them of opportunism. If they honestly consider themselves a “frenzy of talent and songwriting,” and “innovative alternative rock,” perhaps they should sit down together and give long thought to the relative artistic merits of a calculated copy of a copy of a copy of a market ten years old that was, objectively, pretty fucking lame in and of itself to begin with.
    (Note “Matchbox Twenty” reference by Reviewer)

    Of course, since Pittsburgh’s music scene (and overall culture, really) is ten to twenty years behind schedule, closed off and malnourished to the bone anyway, their existence is only natural, but it’s certainly not excusable, and I shall not equivocate or withdraw the slightest bit even though their only excuse might be their provincial naiveté.

    Music (and self-deception) like this tends to suggest that the members are 1) Christian, 2) Sexually Frustrated, 3) Melodramatic and I get the idea that LoveBettie are collectively all of the above. The vocals are typically sung by Alexandra, (who seems to have a perpetual nosebleed) and from what I understand she is responsible for the ballads, which are admittedly, as the reviewer indicates, less embarrassing than the white-as-mayonnaise, up-beat frolicks contained on the tracks fronted by, one assumes, perhaps erroneously, a man. Still, the piano ballads are overwrought, plodding, and “Blue Skied” vaguely sounds like the Cheers theme in the beginning. Barely any dynamics here, no compelling expression, but it sure is PROFESSIONAL! All of this mid-tempo shit would be interesting in the hands of a capable songwriter, but Alexandra just tramps along, not really changing the “piano intro, nasal wailing, piano outro” structure in any of her feature tunes, perhaps relying on her tall hair to compensate for these dry serenades. Zzzzzz….

    The aforementioned man, so-called, is permanent wearer of stupid hats and self-satisfied facial expressions, C.T. Fields, (he’s also the guitarist) who expertly cranks out highly predictable guitar riffs, which superbly compliment the highly predictable everything else. Curiously, in every single band photo, he’s wearing that ridiculous Newsies hat. Incredible. I imagine some frightful conjoined twin jutting hideously from the top of his head, controlling his every move. Poor Mr. Fields must endure, day after day, the furrowed stares of bewildered pedestrians, and surely, he overhears their scathing remarks: “Why does he always wear that hat? Is he bald? Does he have a nasty Gorbachev? Is it the 1930s? Is it Irish pride? How do post-grunge and Herringbone caps go together? Have you heard that song “Lies?” Is it not the most insipid, clumsy, po-faced pastiche of a thankfully bygone genre you’ve ever heard? How can he look so fucking smug? I bet he sits down when he pees.”

    On C.T.’s personal myspace page, his About Me section reads as follows:

    “Musician, producer, singer, songwriter, writer, poet, philosopher, graphic designer, photographer, all around creative personality.”

    Heroes: “Ghandi, Mother Theresa, the creator of pez candy”

    If there are three things I hate, (four, if you include LoveBettie) it’s

    1) Anybody married to the singer of their band who wears dumb fucking hats and believes in god that claims they are a “philosopher.” Philosopher! Haaa! A philosopher of what? Genre cash-ins?

    2) Emasculated weenies with fat, stuffy faces who claim to be musicians, producers, singers, songwriters, poets, graphic designers, photographers, and all around creative personalities but are in reality just emasculated weenies trying to get their vanity project (co-run by their gullible wives) off the ground with corrupt motives, victimizing and insulting the music listening public, (while wearing stupid goddamn hats on top of it!)

    3) Ghandi, Mother Theresa, and the creator of pez candy, three things which obviously do more to prove that God doesn’t exist than he does. (Mother Theresa, like all nuns and many other con artists, also wore a stupid hat. Coincidence?)

    Of course, I would never want to give anybody the idea that Lovebettie is exclusively a mercantile effort. I know, referring to yourself as “marketable” is kind of crass, but hey, you gotta put yourself out there, like say, when your band name is smeared approximately ONE HUNDRED FUCKING TIMES on your myspace page. I don’t know what is more disconcerting, the fact that they are such pushy and shameless promoters, or the fact that I was annoyed enough to sit there and try to quantify their complete and utter lack of dignity that amounts to their obvious cynical commercial ambitions that masquerade as “buzz worthy and captivating” alt rock.

    This is one of a few bands in Pittsburgh, (a rather impractical inclination), in which the guitar player’s wife is the singer of the band, an ill-advised arrangement that can never fail to be both bad for everyone else in the band and hilarious for anyone outside of it who witnesses intra-band-marital conflict. The “everyone else” I’m referring to are the bassist and drummer, whom the reviewer discreetly refers to as “understated,” which I think means “non-existent,” or “pushed violently into the background by a woman achieving Amy Winehouse,visually, and Kermit the Frog, nasally, and a permanently arrogant newsboy/philosopher achieving pigeon turds creatively.” One gets the idea, (“bi-polar,” as the reviewer states), that these two love-birds are writing feeble little messages to each other with each song, either because they can’t communicate in real life, or perhaps they just need to get the fuck away from each other. If the relationship is anything like the music, they must be overwhelmed with monotony, uniform disgust, and erectile dysfunction.

    Aside from J. Banks the drummer’s minor misdemeanor, (stop wearing fucking sunglasses when you play, it’s not cool, you look like a retard) I have no legitimate beef with the bass player and J. “Shades” Banks; the feeling is more akin to a delightful admixture of sympathy and amusement at the thought of you two sitting quietly together exchanging knowing, frustrated glances and rolling your eyes while C.T. and Alexandra invariably start screaming at each other. Who “wears the boots” (see Dirty Mary lyrics) in this house, guys? Does C.T. wear the hat to compete with Alexandra’s hair? Does she push him around? Do creative conflicts degenerate into C.T. accusing Alexandra of cheating on him? Is it with one of you guys? Better keep cool, fellas. Does C.T. almost start crying during these outbursts? Does he ever throw his hat in a red-faced mincing display of rage? What’s the top of his head look like? Oh, so much left to the play of imagination.

    Let me make this perfectly clear:

    LoveBettie is disinterestedly and thoroughly, limp-dicked, unoriginal, irrelevant by 10+ years, and therefore, crap.

    If you like LoveBettie you’re a moron. Re-evaluate your sensibilities, and probably your life, while you’re at it, dumb shit.

    If you have any appreciation for art, you must take a hostile position against a band so deliberately designed, profit-motivated, and consequently, creatively bankrupt.

    C.T. “Socrates” Fields – Throw away your Newsies hat. It’s an affectation, and it adds baggage to a face that’s already douched…got it? By the way, I read your poems:
    They’re fucking gay.

    Alexandra – Baby, I know C.T. is like, four or five years older than you, and he let you be the singer of his band and all, but he’s only doing it because you’re vaguely hot, and basically the only reason people give your band a chance is because they like to watch vaguely hot girls trying to be sexy and cool onstage. Go solo, princess. I know C.T. is older and probably seems wise, being a philosopher, poet, lover of God, Mother Theresa, Ghandi, and Pez candy, and surely those big, self-important lips are so darn tasty lookin’ to an impressionable young lady such as yourself, but trust me, I know the type. He’s probably been steadily undermining your confidence since you were married so you’ll never run off and realize you’re dating a deceptive twat whose inability to write an original song or have an original thought or have an original erection is as fixed as his hat to his head. What’s he hiding under there anyway? What else might he be hiding from you? Divorce that jerk-ass, baby doll! Get yo’self a man with some SOUL and some fuckin’ LONG HAIR who thinks that hats are dumb and knows a vaguely hot girl should be in front of his zipper and not in front of a microphone.

    To the members of LoveBettie: I would tell you all to quit the band, and get thee to thy day jobs, but I don’t want to inadvertently embolden your resolve to succeed in defiance of my frank assessment of your efforts. I accept your existence, but I will never accept what you do and what you stand for. It is in direct opposition to anything good and decent in the wide world.

    P.S. Go watch them play with Donnie Iris on Feb 21st, if you’re the kind of person that likes two bad things worse together.

  12. In response to Lovewilma,

    This is C.T. from Lovebettie (officially). You have been previously responded to by our fans, friends, and family who have taken it upon themselves to defend us. Thank you all. It is unnecessary; but thank you. Please continue to only leave comments about the band, shows, or the album.

    We are realistic enough to realize that not everyone will enjoy our music. We write songs that we enjoy in hopes that others will enjoy them as well. Unfortunately you do not. It is honest and fair and you are more than welcome to your opinion. And to what obvious discomfort we have caused you, we apologize.

    However, your personal attacks are completely unnecessary. They are vicious and without fact or merit. We are good people trying to make our way and do the best we can like everyone else, including you. We promote ourselves because we believe in the music we create and only wish for longevity. With this I am sure you can relate.

    Contrary to belief, we wish you the best in whatever musical or life endeavors you pursue. Hopefully you will endure a lighter criticism.

    C.T.

    Ps: I have a full head of curly black hair. My fiance and I get along genuinely without conflict. She is an amazing talent and a truly magnificent woman. We are getting married in June. Matt and Justin are our best friends, and two of the greatest people we know.

  13. A programming note: A couple of the posts made in this article have been made from the same IP address, but under different names. That, and some other telltale signs, are symptoms of sock-puppetry, and I am deleting those posts.

  14. lovewilma2, I read your post and then went to lovebettie’s myspace site…wow, talk about nail on the head, dead-on, perfect description. Just terrible, terrible music.

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