 |
|
kevin blechdom, "i heart presets"
Tigerbeat 6
Girl Power gets knocked back back a few steps with Blechdom's latest EP release on TB6. The horrible vocals, detuned music and equally painful subject matter have undoubtedly plunged Miss Kevin's career into unbelievable new lows. The strange thing is that it's all intentional and I love it. While I make no psychological claims, I'm guessing she has probably struggled with but accepted the fact that she will never be an angry (but cute), mousey girl with an acoustic guitar, an anorexic sex kitten, nor a post-punk lipstick lesbian-on-the-four-year-plan fronting a rock quartet who chooses to spell girl with two r's and no i. Her chosen career path is faced with critical obstacles only tightwads like NPR reporters would discuss in depth. First and foremost, she's an entertainer, and until you accept her as such, you're setting yourself up to be soured by the sound. Consider that she's also immersed in a scene dominated by very, very serious men who wear two or three names like they think they're some composer or something. This short but sassy disc compliments her recent live shows with a souvenir of said entertainment. Listening, I recall the fond memories of when I first asked myself, "did she just say 'my pussy getting wetter'," or slipped her some cash during a super-classy rendition of that 1980s hit "Private Dancer," once popularized by Tina Turner (I love that imitation harmonica sound solo). Love it or hate it, it's impossible to take your eyes off of it when it's right in front of you. That, my friends is power. At under 15 minutes, the entertainment is short and sweet and without any fart humor the critics have accused her of playing up in the past. What else are you going to spend your $8 on? Two beers and a bag of chips?
Girl Power gets knocked back back a few steps with Blechdom's latest EP release on TB6. The horrible vocals, detuned music and equally painful subject matter have undoubtedly plunged Miss Kevin's career into unbelievable new lows. The strange thing is that it's all intentional and I love it. While I make no psychological claims, I'm guessing she has probably struggled with but accepted the fact that she will never be an angry (but cute), mousey girl with an acoustic guitar, an anorexic sex kitten, nor a post-punk lipstick lesbian-on-the-four-year-plan fronting a rock quartet who chooses to spell girl with two r's and no i. Her chosen career path is faced with critical obstacles only tightwads like NPR reporters would discuss in depth. First and foremost, she's an entertainer, and until you accept her as such, you're setting yourself up to be soured by the sound. Consider that she's also immersed in a scene dominated by very, very serious men who wear two or three names like they think they're some composer or something. This short but sassy disc compliments her recent live shows with a souvenir of said entertainment. Listening, I recall the fond memories of when I first asked myself, "did she just say 'my pussy getting wetter'," or slipped her some cash during a super-classy rendition of that 1980s hit "Private Dancer," once popularized by Tina Turner (I love that imitation harmonica sound solo). Love it or hate it, it's impossible to take your eyes off of it when it's right in front of you. That, my friends is power. At under 15 minutes, the entertainment is short and sweet and without any fart humor the critics have accused her of playing up in the past. What else are you going to spend your $8 on? Two beers and a bag of chips?
samples:
