Tralala

"Just from the sight of them, Tralala is a force to be reckoned with. The seven-piece pop band features four styling females on girl-group vocals with a trio of rockin' guys on drums, guitar and bass." - by Mary Huhn

Tralala is fronted by four completely gorgeous ladies who share singing duties. Backing them up on the guiter/bass/drums are three guys who i quickly forgot, (despite their incredibly catchy rock songs). They reminded me of a dirty pop rock band fronted by 30% Ronnettes and 70% Runaways with a splash of the Slits for good measure. Unfortunately I had a difficult time listening to the band because my mind was on complete overload. I couldn't seem to choose which girl was the cutest, but eventually I decided on the girl dressed like a tennis player - Loose Record.com

"Liking a band such as TRALALA might first involve a wee bit of getting over yourself (especially you cynics out there...and in here). But there's just no arguing against the logic of '50's-girl-group vocals wedded to (very) simple rock. The bands June debut for Audika (the label that's dished out those superb Arthur Russell records) could be the summer-fun-album you had just accepted wasn't coming this year." - Time Out New York

"In terms of their sound, there really isn't an easy way to describe it - it's one of those deals that has to be experienced. I can tell you that it's upbeat and dance-y as anything going today, a bubbly champagne jolt cola concoction of doo-wop girl group meets Stereolab at the best party you've ever been to. And the fact that it was their debut perfomance, that was the most impressive thing of all - if I hadn't have known, I wouldn't have been looking for such things, but they showed no signs of being green, and showed remarkable poise in barely breaking a sweat in getting the packed back room of Pianos all hot and bothered." - Jasper Coolidge

“The concept of Tralala is so no-brainer effective that marketing types should be smacking their foreheads in why-didn’t-I think-of-that frustration. …Since Tralala really sounds like a handful of friends just out for kicks, and not some grand marketing strategy, the group is more than just another band with a gimmick… Another staggering idea—one that for decades has likely eluded any singer over the age of 12—comes on “No/Yeah,” when Nicole Lang chirps, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!/Yeah!” That’s just stupid brilliant. Those songs, plus ten others, are on Tralala’s self-titled debut. But Tralala was made for the stage, where the group’s playful decadence offers just a hint of biker-girl menace. That’s rock & roll.” - Time Out New York

“[Band] In which four local girls do totally adorable girl group chirp-alongs complete with choreographed handclaps and “Iko Iko” patty-cakes and flirty words about “your time is my time and it’s cheap” in front of three local guys churning bubblefuzz psychocandy that, first time I saw them, had me guessing Jesus and Mary Chain long before they covered “Never Understand.” I felt so smart then!” - Village Voice

Track Review of “Fired Up”: "They have great bangs," my friend Tad told me about this all-fun no seriously all-fun bubblegum New York rock band-- nothing else. I listened intrigued and immediately thought, "Sounds like Rocketship," but people tell me that's crazy, and it's possible I've never heard a Rocketship song anyway. So let's start average white: Tralala aren't big on subtlety. Pretty ballsy of them to drop all their eggs in that Kids Songs-style (though not Kidz Bop-esque) girlie head-voice hook. But there's something Langley Schools / misplaced nostalgia about the whole thing, intentionally or not, and after a hundred clicks it's a fucking camping trip. - Pitchfork Media

Joey Ramone, quoting the great Herman’s Hermits, once summed up punk's greatest beauty and biggest fault in one lightning-flash of a couplet: "Second verse/ same as the first." Though there's a bit more variety than that on the debut LP from Tralala, Joey's edict applies like drugstore lipstick. Tralala is an incredibly self-aware album, as the Brooklyn gals (and dudes, who do not sing) handclap and pirouette to Motown girl groups and the Ramone family, harmonize and coo over big beats and bigger guitars and remind us of a time when Phil Spector was more than just a gun-toting weirdo with hay-bale hair. Start with "All Fired Up" and "Stop Pretending," and then shimmy your way through the rest. - eMusic