for October 30, 2002


Let's Review
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

Your Darling, Your Diva, Your One True Love despises record reviews, but grudgingly recognizes there's more music out there than we could sample without brain damage. It's usually easy to refuse to review. Simply cover ears at the suggestion and meow loudly. This time, a dear friend of Altrok contributors made the suggestion. Meow meow just this once meow...
 
Watershed's "The More It Hurts the More It Works" refers to Mercurochrome, which happens to be the name of track 9, a bouncy pop song reminiscent of the BoDeans or the Gin Blossoms until the lyrics sink in. They're bitter and angry and suddenly a hoot: "From what they say about what doesn't kill you/Charles Atlas has got nothing on me/But then he's probably dead/Buried in a beach towel with some coed." Well, that was worth a second listen.
 
To be completely truthful - and please, never in polite company - Your Sugar Plum spent enough time with this CD to call the endeavor an occupation, minus the tanks. The packaging is visually interesting, if tricky to read. Checking to see if you heard what you thought you heard that made you spit your latte? Chuck your dignity and try it with a microscope.
 
In fact, the sound of the album encourages close listening. Now, something reminds the listener of the Offspring; now one hears The Knack. The Knack? Yep, and as soon as the ear identifies what it's hearing, songs slingshot off into fresh ways to bounce. By far, Your Figgy Pudding's favorite song is New Life. Your Peppermint Stick is a sucker for unique voices, interestingly arranged - so long as she's dancing. And one does, which is surprising in a pop tune about regret and wishing to start over.
 
One supposes from the album Watershed puts on an energetic show. One wonders why Watershed isn't played on the radio, in a time when dreck fills the airwaves. Your Leibkuchen can't tell you, of course, that you'll like this CD. As always: you should decide for yourself. But can driving, amusing songs to slit your wrists by be all bad?
 

©2002 Robin Pastorio-Newman