There’s always been a rivalry between the East and West Coasts, but lately I’ve wondered if I’ve been shutting my musical blinders to the outside world out of pure loyalty. New Yorkers can admit that NYC’s music “scene” is in a constant state of flux, like so many epicenters where musicians outnumber accountants. That said, in the past few months I’ve noticed a definitive shift in my musical predilections, and that shift has taken me almost exclusively to the sunny coast, the crunchy-granola coast - the Best Coast. But don’t judge me spiteful New Yorkers, you know my heart will forever be found in the gutters of our beloved city. Even though Bethany Cosentino and Bobb Bruno have yet to release their first full length record as Best Coast, their EPs have turned me into a veritable super fan. Their music is heavy and fuzzed out, but Cosentino’s vocals and lyrics hint at a romanticism and innocence that’s been all but banished from female fronted rock acts. Our rock stars have to keep up with their male counterparts, and because of that we assume that aggression and ferocity are necessary to pump out a classic track. Best Coast prove that being boy-crazy, introspective and a little silly doesn’t mean you can’t shred.