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September 18, 2006 | by  | in Music | [ssba]

You Say Party! We Say Die! Hit The Floor!

Art school kids are just like everybody else. Oh sure, they hide it skillfully under thoughtfully arranged outfits made from articles found in clothing bins, conversations conducted in a dense web of arcane references to exclude the casual listener, and an irritating need to talk about the death of post-moderism and their 43,927 “friends” on Myspace, but when you break it down to the essential urges, they’re people too. And up until now, androgynous hipsters wanting to get their freak on and wind up having sex in a club toilet at 3am have had to do this, like everyone else, to the usual array of Britney, Pussycat Dolls et al. Except they’ve had to do it ‘ironically’. Until now. YSP!WSD! (for convenience’s sake) are an attractive fivesome from Vancouver who specialise in what is essentially frottage music for hipsters. It’s catchy, sleazy, shouty, synthy and great to dance suggestively to, as the album title suggests. It’s also not going to generate any kind of musical revolution, or stick around in anyone’s mind very long, with the current glut of incredibly similar synth-pop outfits flooding the globe. It is a cleverly written and produced album, and first song ‘Cold Hands, Hot Bodies’ promises heights of addictively fantastic 80s driven floor-filler that sadly slides slowly downwards to the end, with more of an electronic whimper than a bang. I say cleverly written because it takes quite a few listens to realise that none of the five know how to wring any more than the most basic sounds from their instruments. They’ve just got a talent for combining these underwhelming talents into something greater than the sum of its parts. Handclaps? Check. Shouty frontwoman? Check. Vague hints of social agitation in the lyrics? Check. Crunchy three chord guitar under minor tensionbuilding keys progressing to the inevitable payoff? Check. Like current punky-synth outfit du jour Be Your Own Pet and our own, far more talented and interesting Charlie Ash, YSP!WSD! plays with a kind of faintly deviant, skewed sexuality that will provide the perfect soundtrack for a thousand art school pashes and fervered gropings, but probably nothing more.


About the Author ()

BORN WITH a cigarette in one hand and The Trial in other, Bea meant to go on as she started. Music wasn’t her first love, but her first love ended in a fight over rightful ownership of a Velvet Underground LP and the kitchen knife, so she chose the kinder option and stuck with it. In her spare time she enjoys casting aspersions, skulking, and making sweeping statements. She never checks her facts: figures it’s a way to live a little, to have arguments with people, then meet them. She’s currently writing a collection of short stories inspired by Schopenhauer’s manifesto of suffering and the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. When it gets published, she’s pretty sure that boy will want to hold her hand.

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