Life with jazz hands

I'm not a fan of bands with thematic albums- they're like bling raps for white people. Gaudy, sweet sentiments that almost always seem to turn into epic masturbation sessions (with the exception of Okkervil River's Black Sheep Boy)- but when a band can write an epic of a song, enclose and finish it...it feels like a one night stand with an out-of-town babe.



Vancouver's Bend Sinister (Storyboard Records) are one of those bands that can pull off those types of songs with seemingly effortless execution. Their vocals spiral upwards and in between ridiculous guitar progressions so closely that they're on the brink of strangling each other. There isn't a moment on their three song, unnamed EP that doesn't suggest that West Side Story should be remade with real people in real gangs really snapping in unison in dark alleys.


Owen Pallett, better known as Final Fantasy (A million different labels) is another one of those songwriters. Though his first full length record, Has A Good Home is poppy, straightforward and catchy in its own right, his second full length He Poos Clouds won him the 2006 Polaris Prize for good reason. Every song stands well on its own, but each song creates its own operatic sound that carries a weight only summed up when the whole album plays through. Pallett's ability to craft symphonies piece by piece in combination with his nerdy wit and sometimes bizarre lyrics makes He Poos Clouds play out on a stage in your headphones.


I myself never could stomach a play without feeling the need to beat someone up or eat an entire cow or drag race in a minivan while doing to drive-by to regain my masculinity, but the Evil Dead musical just might change the way I feel about watching grown men prance around on stage with makeup on.


It might be the summery weather making me all bubbly inside, but I hope some epic shit comes out this summer- I got me some jazzhands that need some shakin'.