“Telephone” is a good four minutes of poppy, punky new wavy whateveryawannacallit, as if John Lydon heard the Go-Gos and decided PiL wasn’t infantile enough.
A sustained burst of tonal improv, with the ubiquitous Jim O’Rourke on hand, which pulsate with ionic radio wave-bursts, trumpet bleats and near-ambient drifts.
With Rob Zamarki’s crooning and bullhorn shouts, and Emily Unverferht’s icy angel-turned-howling-banshee wails, Sweetie confuse as much as they entertain.
McCaughan’s slightly falsetto, river-of-angst vocals communicate suburban teen melancholy through a long, slow, dissonant wash reminiscent of empty classrooms.
As the title implies, it is a dichotomy – between hope and despair, anger and exhilaration, acknowledging the past while leading the charge into the future.
This six song EP is a pleasant, although not too radical, departure from the “Spin the Bottle” type of alterna-pop Ms. Hatfield has graced us with recently.
“My Balls” is a sweet ballad. Dreamy acoustic guitar tip-toes as Savage tells the wispy tale of having a disagreement with his balls. This is bizarre. I like.
It’s scary to actually recommend songs off this album, but the Spanish guitar-driven “Viva Forever” is as good as any other pop ballad torturing the airwaves.