Mark Bianchi is very sad, and because of this, he is going to take your girl. After repeated listens to Her Space Holiday’s The Young Machines, these are the only two things I know with any certainty. How a guy who apparently gets so much action can still be this depressed, I’m not sure. But in this case, that sadness leads to cold, glistening pop songs that seem to shimmer in their own light, so I guess we can all be happy about that. Or … maybe not. I don’t really know.
Honestly, too much of this stuff might not be healthy. Small doses could be a better idea. Throw “Sleepy California” or “From South Carolina” on your next morning-after mixtape, and that might be enough. Revel in the muted Postal Service production (which, I guess, would actually make it DNTEL production, but whatever). Dissect lyrics about dead grandmothers and broken relationships. But there really ought to be a surgeon general’s warning on this one: Her Space Holiday will make you wish you were miserable.
This is a phenomenon I’d like to discuss for a second, one I first encountered with Beck’s Sea Change. I understood the genius of “Lost Cause,” but I just wasn’t sad enough to really get it. I wanted horrible things to happen to me, just so I could find solace in that record. That’s exactly how I feel about The Young Machines. Listening to it, I wish the sun wasn’t shining. I wish I didn’t have so many friends, or a steady job, or any hope at all. I wish I had nothing but my sadness and a string of adulterous ladyfriends (seriously, I can’t stress this enough – the whole record is about cheating, and it just sounds like so much fun, sad fun). And then I would understand Mark Bianchi. This is a bad thing.
All pop psychology aside, though, there are a bunch of really good songs here. “Tech Romance,” “Japanese Gum,” “My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend.” And, to be honest, it’s less depressing than past Her Space Holiday offerings (one was called Home Is Where You Hang Yourself, after all). And understand that Bianchi knows he’s got it good for having it so bad (“I’ve got a girl problem / I’ve got a drug problem / And I don’t want to solve them”). So keep this one around for when you get sick of that Junior Boys record, but don’t let it ruin your summer. And after tonight, don’t leave your girl ‘round Mark Bianchi – true playa for real. |