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Dec 10, 2017







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Siamese, The Mesmerist (self-released)




Siamese, The Mesmerist (self-released)

In a world of politely deconstructed wingnut-pop, it’s nice to know kids still want to put on a show. This Dallas glam band, made of two guys holding up the rhythm section for two girls up front, is said to incorporate a found-art approach to their stage show, which, and I quote, involves “elements from carpentry to choreography to costume design” toward an effort to creating a “parallel universe” wherein both the band and their audience can indulge alternate identities. Reads like a Decemberists trip to me, but since we’re talking about glam, maybe it’s a Rocky Horror thing for nice doughy accounting students, especially being that the music isn’t all that glammy, more like material that’s in line with bands like Spacemen 3 and Au Revoir Simone and anything in between, a little shoegazey, a little (OK, very) underproduced, some outright Pink Floyd theft, this sort of thing. Mind, it’s usually more driving than that, not sluggish psych-pop — it’d fit for a steamy perfume ad, if that rubs you right. Trite and timely, meaning, well, Glam 2.0, come to think of it. B- — Eric W. Saeger




Sisters, Drink Champagne (self-released)
CD Reviews: March 16, 2017

03/16/17
By Eric Saeger news@hippopress.com



 This may be the end of a romance, depending on whether this album sucks or not. This Seattle hipster-pop band’s hipster PR girl from L.A. gave me a ration of poop when I wrote off her last hipster promo album as hipster piffle, like, what right have I to bandy the word “hipster” about, just cold laughing at hipsters, or whatever I did? Well, bands and PR hacks, I’ll have you know that if I want to make fun of hipsters or scene kids or emos or white-makeup black-metal bands from Romania, you can’t stop me. You just can’t. And if you try, maybe I’ll make something up, like I could say this album sounds like Borat singing nasally over tuba. See that? Those actual words, in actual print? So, this is the first record I’ll be checking out from an L.A. hipster band in quite a while, and these kids, oh boy, look the part, refugees from Juno, knit caps, nerd glasses, ironically bad hair, and it’s a guy and a girl duo, not actual sisters. See? The music itself: Postal Service cheese, some Manchester Orchestra skronk, super-weak girl vocals from whichever one is the girl, decent male vocals on the ’80s-Flashdance-inspired “Trails,” decent blinged-’70s-pop on the proferred hit “Honey Honey.” Not bad. For a hipster band, I mean. B — Eric W. Saeger

 





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