Inventory Bands much wussier than they should be, based on name alone

Fuzz-rock noisemakers  Screaming Females aren’t what their name suggests. Marissa Paternoster, the garage-rock trio’s only lady, can let out a mighty yelp, but she’s far more likely to make her guitar scream than her voice. Truth in advertising is no rule in rock, though. Bands have a history of picking names to make them sound tougher than they really are. The ill-named Screaming Females will be rolling through town twice this month—at the Hideout tonight and Ronny’s Oct. 8. In honor of these two shows, The A.V. Club looks at other mistakenly named bands going for a harder edge, and what they can do to fix things.

Violent Femmes
The name suggests: A riot grrl group circa 1993. Of the six Femmes, only three would be able play their instruments and four of them would share vocal duties. Today, they’d travel the country playing lesbian bars in the same van they started in.
But it really sounds like: Four nerdy boys from Milwaukee who write angsty pop songs about borrowing the car and being too ugly to get any.
Bad-ass upgrade: The unshaved armpits are already a go, so all the Violent Femmes need to do to live up to their name is stop restraining their frustration behind tense pop songs and let it all go. No more hooks, no more loud-soft-loud choruses, just start yelling.

10,000 Maniacs
The name suggests: A ska group that mixes punk rock and a horn section à la Operation Ivy or Streetlight Manifesto. No one in the band would be over the age of 19, and members would rotate based on who was grounded that weekend. The band would be joined at live shows by a good chunk of the high school marching band, resulting in a mêlée of instruments and questionable dancing.
But it really sounds like: Natalie Merchant's decidedly non-maniacal first band. Even with an orchestra backing them, 10,000 Maniacs fail to live up to their mob-evoking name.
Bad-ass upgrade: Lighten up. If the night belongs to lovers why is Natalie so unhappy? Get ready to get down with some upbeat upstrokes and peppy horns.

Sting
The name suggests: A band with a little bit of bite to it. Actually, what Sting should sound like is The Police at their best. “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” and “Can’t Stand Losing You” had all of the groove and punch that a band bearing Sting's name should maintain.
But it really sounds like: The kind of wuss-out smooth rock that works best as the background music to a candlelit bath. The sting of embarrassment is the only edge to songs like “Fragile.”
Bad-ass upgrade: Take away the world instruments and replace them with distortion-laden guitar. Then give Sting a shock every time he takes a hearty breath to sing from the diaphragm or picks up a Renaissance-era instrument.

The Killers
The name suggests: A chain-wielding, motorcycle-riding street-punk band from Britain. A sound modeled on Cock Sparrer and a bad reputation would make them the terrors of the record industry.
But it really sounds like: A band fronted by a man named Brandon Flowers, whose make-up and dandy clothes complement the band's pop songs. Even in their wannabe-Bruce Springsteen days, The Killers lacked the life experience to match the Boss’ subject matter.
Bad-ass upgrade: Shave off the foppish locks and get some tattoos. Also, a workout would help with the intimidation factor. Accept that dancers are not a separate species, but a part of the human genus.

Sparta
The name suggests: The fierce warrior society seen in 300. The lead singer would shout the words “We are Sparta!” right before diving into a pit of fans.
But it really sounds like: Post-emo whinecore. Sparta makes the kind of sensitive rock that teenage girls with body issues flocked to in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s.
Bad-ass upgrade: Get angry the next time a girl breaks their hearts. Sparta should embrace the screaming side of emo’s hardcore roots. Some testosterone shots wouldn’t hurt either.