They are the Leslie Gore of 2004, as doo-wop and slow jazzy pop backdrop sullen, soft female vocals speaking of lost love and getting misty-eyed. Carey Lander, who sings and plays piano and organ, has a moving, broken-sounding voice that like a barnyard cat, just crawled out of its hiding place. And like a Gore track, the songs all seem to been written in that whole "Its my party, I can cry if I want to" vein, only without the snappy-pop and energy, slowed down to droning acoustic guitar, organs, and other dreamy instruments.
Though the album picks up on a few tracks where you could bob your head and twist your hips as if you were at the Hop, none of the tracks hit you over the head, nor should they. They feel more like someone cracking a raw egg over your head, which is softer, and then comes the slow moving gooey liquid, covering you in an filthy way that you admit feels so good you want to just leave it there. Ooh now I'm a mess! |