Am I the only person who hears scatter-brained remnants of the Roches here?
Long ago, in case you haven’t heard (and some among you I’m sure are still paying for therapy here) Maggie, Terre and Suzzy were cute, Partridge like purveyors of the cutest pop this side of the 80’s, New York folk scene. And while they were indeed cute in an Alex P Keaton way, they were utterly infectious, repetitious, and they definitely weren’t for everyone.
I remember a “Death to the Roches” poster at one of my first real puddle punk shows.
There is a jittery, lovely thing going on with The Blow, and it might remind you of the Roches. Sure, it isn’t as self-referential, nor is it as blatantly endearing, but it is tin can pop filled with little girl vocals and alluring, minimalist progressions. The Blow isn’t going frost your hair like the Roches – they’re more conceptual, more in the vein of a Portland, Oregon art show. Still though, the simplicity might blow your mind in a fit of frustration. The electro sequencer beat on “Knowing The Things That I Know” feels like contemporary hip-hop: underwhelming with its creativity, in need of some beefing. The same can be said for others among the seven source songs on Poor Aim/Love Songs like, “The Love That I Crave” or “Hock It”: simple, surface glancing, but somehow alluring enough to endure the entire album.
The remixes aren’t all that exciting – not surprising, considering the source material is just as lukewarm. For fans of a Roches meets a hip-hop hybrid, this might be just the thing. Perhaps I’m stuck with Maggie, Terre and Suzzy – perhaps I should have taken therapy, but this is too much like something I know so eerily well. |