The Boy With the Arab Strap
This title sounds so dirty, I hardly want
to pick up this album. The first track, "It Could Have
Been a Brilliant Career" is a terrific little piece of
pop bliss, but the album kind of peters out after that. After
the first track? Uh, kinda. The more B&S you listen to,
the more you realize this is music that should be tinkling softly
over speakers in the dressing room in some lady's boutique in
SoHo. You just want somebody to scream or die or bleed or something.
Man, somebody hit that f'n drum with some conviction! Plink,
plink, plink. Something about this album makes me want to just
throttle these guys. What happened to the sarcasm and the wit?
I suppose there's nothing wrong with easy-listening music, but
what the hell is with the spoken word crap? It sounds like some
dude from Trainspotting chatting over bad 007
bad guy music. More whimsy does not equal a better listening
experience. |
Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like
a Peasant
Ugh, who's the dude with the deeper voice?
Track three starts and I'm convinced that he has somehow eaten
the fey singer from tracks one and two (and the rest of the
collection I have). This track, "Beyond Sunrise,"
reminds me, for some reason, of the catacombs of Sacre Coeur
in Paris. It's musty, dark, monk-like and stagnant. In other
words, it stinks. Then the chick starts singing on track four
and I'm about to eject the CD. Where are the interesting lyrics
I have come to expect? Where's the dude with the lisp. Ah, track
five, there you are with your soft organ and slow, slinky groove--and
you say the word "bloody," which I just love. Reading
up a little on this band, I think I'm starting to realize that
I only like the songs written and sung by Stuart Murdoch--and
I use the term "like" kind of strongly in a lot of
theses cases. The rest are throw aways. Save your money and
buy something by a band with some consistency and conviction. |
If You're Feeling Sinister
Sounding like the title of a forgotten Smiths
album, If You're Feeling Sinister is an odd album that
somehow mines the dark underpinnings of the sunny world of the
pop life. It's not as if they're murderin' muthafuckers or anything,
but they do point out the hypocrisy of the older generations,
the fact that not everyone subscribes to the genteel way of
life and the struggle of just generally getting along. It's
like The La's got together with the
swishiest side of Morrissey and had a child with The
Vaselines. If that doesn't sum it up, I don't know what
would. It's a decent little album filled with light ditties
that don't necessarily inspire, but fulfill an odd curiosity
to listen on. |
The Life Pursuit
|
Storytelling
|
Tigermilk
What the hell is going on here? That is the
only question one can ask when the lispy, Scotsman whines the
line "My brother had confessed he was gay to take the heat off
me for a while. He stood up with a sailor friend; made
it known upon my sister's wedding day..." at the beginning of
the very first track on the group's debut album. This stuff
makes The Smiths look like Metallica.
Wimpy is the adjective that first comes to mind, but that adjective
may describe the sound but not the content of the music. These
are some clever songs that can tickle both the funny bone
and the soul (gag). There's a nice feeling of nostalgia
and suburban comfort built into the soft melodies and tones
of each song. Despite all this, I still feel kinda funny
inside listening to this twee pop, and generally only bump it
through headphones in the confines of my pink bedroom in the
folds of my pink comforter, under my pink satin sheets. |
Musical Connections:
Isobel
Campbell & Mark Lanegan
|
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