Once all the tales of titty twisting, tongue probing, and creeps with roving hands are over, the Trucks conclude their eponymous debut album with a simple—and seemingly sincere—request. Evidently exasperated enough to turn to a famous fat man for help, singer-guitarist Kristin Allen-Zito finishes the record with “Dear Santa, please don’t bring me another boyfriend for Christmas/The last one sucked.”

That much is evident on the first spin of The Trucks. Over the course of 12 scrappily infectious tracks, the Bellingham-spawned, all-female quartet makes it pretty clear that Mr. Right has yet to come ambling across the dance floor. Calling from her day job at an organic-foods warehouse, Allen-Zito reveals that the Trucks’ tales of woe involving the opposite sex are, sadly, based on actual events.

“They are things that happened to either us or to our friends,” the outgoing frontwoman says. “Looking at it all, after a while it becomes kind of hilarious. Like ”˜Holy cow—I just dated a schizophrenic, and had no idea. Now it’s two weeks later and he’s at my door at midnight with his camo gear.’ I mean, that happens to everyone, right?”

Well, unless you’ve been punching “dishonourable discharge” into the Lavalife search engine, probably not. But that’s beside the point. Thanks largely to their sense of humour, Allen-Zito and her bandmates—drummer Lindy McIntyre, xylophonist-programmer Marissa Moore, and bassist Faith
Reichel—bring to mind a less dogmatic Le Tigre. Or, failing that, a potty-mouthed, cross-border counterpart to You Say Party! We Say Die!

Over the course of the album, the Trucks prove themselves equally adept at lo-fi indie rawk, Tinkertoy pop, scenester-flavoured soul, and old new wave. But their specialty—to date, at least—is synth-propelled DIY dance-punk that’s hook-heavy enough to reel in both next-generation riot-grrrls and forward-thinking boys.

“On this album, we were listening to a lot of electroclash-type stuff,” Allen-Zito reveals. “But honestly, everything that comes out of us now is completely different. Last week, I wrote a slowed-down, cheesy soul song. We’ve also got a new one that’s over-the-top disco, and one that’s really folky. And some stuff that’s like creepy metal.”

So if you thought Bellingham had nothing to offer but a megamall and a downtown that smells weirdly like canned dog food, think again. Still, even though the Trucks have built up their audience by opening for everyone from Pretty Girls Make Graves to the Presidents of the United States of America, Allen-Zito notes that not everyone gets the band.

“We’ve been working on this new song about getting all emotional when you’re PMSing on the first day of your period. The idea is that what you’re seeing every time you have your period is one less chance to have a baby. Me and Marissa wrote it and we thought it was really funny. It’s called ”˜My Babies Are Dead’, and it’s really dark. But we played it recently, and the audience just stood there going like ”˜Ah, what’s wrong with you?’ ”

There’s probably no short answer to that question. So for the sake of brevity, let’s pin the blame on their ex-boyfriends.

The Trucks open for Northern State at the Plaza Club on Tuesday (May 6).