- by Matt Rimmer
- Thursday, June 01, 2006
Eleanor Friedberger – Alex Franz’s boot wearing other half - is certainly a beguiling frontwomen. She seems unrestrained on ‘Bitter Tea’ very much in her element as she revels in the crazy world she and her brother are constructing. The words that she spouts harness a child’s perspective on the world wherein fairy tale, fantastical imagery is used to imagine the world as a disturbing and surreal, yet exhilarating place. The only similar example is possibly Robert Smith’s Cure lyrics. She regularly thrusts herself in to the narratives as the central protagonist, on ‘In My Little Thatched Hut singing “I’ll go to the flower stall/And get a violent violet to put in my jet black hair.” Or to use another hair example she petulantly cries “I’m in no mood to comb my hair” on ‘I’m In No Mood.’ ‘Oh Sweet Words’ takes the surrealism in to a more adult vein of David Lynch/ Cronenberg weirdness as a shaggy dog story is detailed in which she is abducted by Mormons who demand information from her, before she humorously reposts “You’ve got the wrong Eleanor Friedberger.”
Of course this cartoon image of ‘Eleanor Friedberger’ is made even more intriguing by fact that as the sleeve notes make clear her bro was responsible for the majority of the lyrics. Like The White Stripes’ brother/ sister / husband / wife conundrum such things seem almost designed to tease the listener with the mystery of it all. Musically the Furnaces are still teasing the listener with the prospect of conventional song structure and melody unhampered by madness. Sonically it is as ever mad-cap throughout, as much like a restless child as the lyrical material. There are constant changes of instrument, tempo or style and strange samples of chanting and backwards voices recur throughout. Such willful experimentalism is signaled from the outset when ‘..Thatched Hut’ features 30 seconds of what sounds like deranged ducks squawking. ‘The Vietnamese Telephone Ministry’ concludes with Friedberger chanting the number of said institution “2, 3, 2, 1,7,6,2, 5” over and over again; a genuinely unhinged moment.
The best moments on the album do come when harmony shockingly emerges from the discord. On ‘Black Hearted Boy’ and ‘Teach Me Sweetheart’ Friedberger coos gentle pretty tunes and ‘Waiting to Know You’ is in essence a fifties style sugary ballad. In all three the melodic flow of the songs is still broken up by the random, eccentric musical breaks. Only ‘Benton Harbor Blues’ a meandering but melodic keyboard chug is allowed its own sweet time, undisturbed. It is good though to see a band not opting for the Coldplay model of trying to make every song as warm, fuzzy and accessible as possible. So yes there is a lot that’s admirable about this album, and some good tunes. The one criticism might be that it outstays its welcome. It’s an hour plus a further ten minutes for two alternatives mixes of tracks, which is a heavy listen given the nature of the music. The Furnaces probably just need a bit more focus and editing to construct a classic.
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