Alright, let’s dive into Personality Crisis Time I Don’t Care Do You by The Lesbians. This 1986 gem from Greece is one of those albums that feels like it came out of a time machine straight to your ears—equal parts quirky, bold, and unforgettable. With genres blending electronic and rock vibes, and styles dipping into New Wave and Synth-pop territory, this record has got character for days. And honestly? It’s kinda wild how much they packed into just two tracks.
First off, the title track “Personality Crisis Time” hits hard right away. It’s got this jittery synth line that sounds like someone spilled coffee on a keyboard—and somehow made it work. The energy? Through the roof. There’s something about the way the basslines (shoutout Spiro Peristeris) groove under all those jagged beats that keeps pulling me back in. Like, yeah, I’m not sure if I’ve ever had an actual personality crisis while listening to music before, but now I feel like I could start one at any moment. The lyrics are snarky yet relatable—you know, the kind of stuff you wanna scream-sing in front of a mirror when no one’s watching.
Then there’s “I Don’t Care (Do You?!)”, which flips the vibe slightly but still stays true to the chaotic charm of the album. This track leans heavier into its rock edge with punchy percussion courtesy of Joahnna Smith. What sticks with me most here is the chorus—it’s simple, repetitive, and borderline rude, but damn does it slap. You can practically hear the attitude dripping off every note. Producer Phillip Golf really knew what he was doing letting these guys run wild with their sound because it works. Even the production quirks, like little echoes or sudden drops, give it this raw, unpolished feel that makes it stand out.
One thing I gotta mention: whoever did the design nailed it too. Everything about this album screams DIY cool—from the artwork to the fact that The Lesbians literally handled almost every aspect themselves. Props to Shawn Running for the photography; it adds this edgy, mysterious layer to the whole package. Oh, and Takis Argiriou as the engineer deserves some love too—this thing wouldn’t sound half as good without his magic touch.
Now, reflecting on this album… it’s weirdly ahead of its time. Like, imagine hearing this in ‘80s Greece—a country better known for bouzouki than Synth-pop bangers. These ladies were clearly doing their own thing, breaking rules left and right, and honestly? Good for them. Listening to it today feels like finding a secret treasure chest full of neon-colored chaos.
But here’s the kicker—I dunno why, but this album makes me think about what would happen if aliens landed on Earth tomorrow and only listened to THIS as their intro to human music. Would they think we’re brilliant or completely insane? Either way, I bet they’d be hooked. So yeah, check it out. Just don’t blame me if you end up having your own personality crisis afterward.
