Chicago’s Head of Femur seem to get a lot of mileage out being one of those bands “that sounds like no one else.” While originality and uniqueness are worthy attributes, so is quality. After all, you could also say that The Bloodhound Gang sounded like no one else, too. Secondly, the central tenet of their description is a bit untrue: they do sound like other acts. Their most notable resemblance is the Fiery Furnaces because both pursue hyper, ADD-prog-pop. While I’ve never been much of a fan of FF’s community theater meets Meatloaf arrangements, Head of Femur is more of a rock affair, supposedly having requisite Beach Boys-via-Elephant 6 influences. However, Head of Femur is also an orchestra band, boasting twenty-eight musicians on “Hysterical Stars” with everything from tuba to piccolo to tenor sax (and touring as a nine-piece). In this way, there is also connection to the sprawling arrangements on the American Music History lesson that was Sufjan Stevens’ “Illinois.”
All of this amounts to that there are many sides to Head of Femur, and “Hysterical Stars” is one of the most inconsistent albums you’re likely to hear. Not just inconsistent in quality (though, somewhat, yes), but widely divergent in style. This is why I find it hard to love or hate Head of Femur. “Hysterical Stars” starts off very strong: opening track “Elliott Gould Is In California Split” sounds like Guided By Voices, Franz Ferdinand, and Neutral Milk Hotel thrown in a blender. “Ringodom or Proctor” (also the name of HoF’s first album) makes 80s-meets-garage a bit like The New Pornographers, if they were more math rock. Add “Percy” (a catchy, speedy Cars-like ditty), and the pretty “Skirts Are Takin’ Over,” and at this point, all signs point to a great album.
However, in contrast to these songs and, much of the rest of “Hysterical Stars” is schmaltzy and overblown. There is Sousa marching brass on the ridiculous “The Sausage Canoe,” which is so silly it sounds like it comes from a Mr. Show sketch. Then there’s the lite-rock piano intro of “Oh You’re Blue,” plus the smooth jazz sax over Steve Miller Band jamming at the end of “Song For Richard Manuel.” All of these songs have drastic changes and transitions. But it’s not like these parts accomplish anything other than being surprising. Head of Femur adopt the approach that if they throw enough shit at the wall, some of it will stick. Unfortunately, just as much, stinks. And while, yes, the quick boogie of “Easy Street” is winning, the awful Warped Tour pop punk meets horn section accents of “Do The Cavern” is dreadful (please, didn’t Reel Big Fish teach the world anything?). |