Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o

Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o
Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band o

Here is the photo documentation of a day in January spent following around Mannequin Pussy, a band of childhood friends that has since evolved into a trio of face-melting fury. Don’t ask them what the origin of the name is, because the answer is not that it’s a tribute to their offensively ripping off the underwear of department store mannequins. At this point, Mannequin Pussy is a self-sustaining band, having successfully toured all across the contiguous United States, with no signs of stopping. MP is made up of Marisa Dabice, 27, Athanasios Paul, 27, and Kaleen Reading, 22. Their sound is heavily rooted in punk, grunge and everything in between. But Dabice makes all the difference with her vocals— jumping around from melodies like innocent nursery rhymes, to wonderful maniacal screaming fits. It is just as heartwarming as it sounds. We started the day at Dabice’s place in West Philly near Friends of Malcom X Park, which made for a fitting band photo when strategically covered with the members of MP.  I was the lucky solo audience member of a tea party and basement rehearsal, witnessed the turnaround of funky old thrift duds into coveted Mannequin Pussy merchandise and surfed the web for tuxedo shirts only suitable for their mock-prom Valentines Day show. We headed out to Everybody Hits on W Girard Avenue to set up and listen to a roster of local and touring bands play. Meanwhile, we passed the time by playing free games of pinball and dodging icing-covered hot dogs, because it was somebody’s birthday, and hot dogs and batting cages obviously go hand in hand. But the night really blasted off when Mannequin Pussy took the stage around 12 a.m. The intimate audience was elated by MP’s wall of sound, and were completely in awe over Dabice’s dynamic vocals. There was something really special about being in such an unusual venue, surrounded by the sweaty, drunk, tight-knit crowd of local punk supporters in Philly, not caring about being hit in the head with a 40 oz or hot dog, or who was watching me rock out with a band called Mannequin Pussy. -- source link


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