“Are you going to call me a cunt? Are you going to tell me I’m ugly? Well, here’s my band name—do your worst, motherfucker.” This is the attitude of Meredith Graves, frontwoman of the bold, confrontational Syracuse five-piece Perfect Pussy. The sentiment perfectly matches the music: Perfect Pussy rose to blogosphere fame late last year on the strength of the brutally honest lyricism (well, when it could be understood behind the plethora of filters) and explosive lo-fi garage punk of their debut EP I have lost all desire for feeling. At four songs and twelve minutes long, the EP provided a bare minimum of an introduction to Perfect Pussy’s particular breed of garage rock. Their debut album, Say Yes to Love, is almost twice as long (if the live bonus tracks are excluded), yet instead of feeling twice as powerful as the EP, it rushes by like a blur, impacting surprisingly infrequently.

That’s not to say that Say Yes to Love is in any way a bad album. Although it’s not quite as invigorating as its predecessor, it’s still got many moments of thrilling lo-fi punk. Lead-off track “Driver” rails forward with a greater fidelity and a somewhat slower pace than the majority of I have lost all desire for feeling, which helps Graves’ cries of “you don’t know shit about me!” land with poignancy. “Work”, a faster, more metallic track, combines some of the album’s most incomprehensible lyrics with some of its most immediate guitar work. “Advance Upon the Real” builds upon the guitar assault of “Work”, its words often buried under layers of impossibly rapid six-strings-and-percussion interplay.

Even with all the electrifying thrash present here, though, it can be difficult to distinguish the faster songs from one another, especially since the sentiments, which are probably so lacerating that hearing them clearly would thoroughly enhance these songs, often hide behind the instrumentation, despite the improved fidelity. Consecutive tracks “Bells” and “Big Stars” seem to lead into each other, yet there’s not much to separate the pounding sounds of each song. “Dig” experiences the same dilemma: there’s nothing about it to really distinguish it from its surroundings.

The similarity across tracks on Say Yes to Love, when combined with how short the album is, somewhat dampens the excitement predicted by I have lost all desire for feeling. Although even the album’s best moments can feel monotonous, there’s one song in particular that helps break up the steady flow. “Interference Fits”, easily the most unique song on the album, is a good deal less aggressive than the rest of the album. The song starts with a few strummed notes rather than heavy power chords, as with every other track. It’s a bit more downbeat than the other songs, too, and unexpectedly gorgeous coming from a band whose scrambled sound is generally hideous. “Since when do we say yes to love?” Graves asks during this song’s brief moment of near-silence, a brief reprieve from the sensory overload of her band’s sound.

Eleven minutes of music — over half the entire length of Say Yes to Love — follow “Interference Fits”, yet none of these minutes ever binds the ears as tightly. In fact, just under eight of these minutes are mostly feedback and noise, percussion-less collages of sound that disappoint rather than fascinate. Doing the math reveals that this section accounts for one-third of Say Yes to Love, and this final third is more bothersome than it is interesting. Four bonus tracks follow the third, but each of these features a live performance, adding no value to the album. It’s hard to love an album structured so strangely, and its sameness doesn’t help. Despite its flaws though, it’s tough not to at least like a few of the songs on here, and that’s alright — since when do we say yes to love anyway?