The immaturity of the record coupled with synthy dance beats make this emo-lovin’ boy cringe. “And in a mystery to be/When time to time shall set us free/Forgetting me/Remember me,” says frontwoman Sperber on the Ya-Ya sisterhood-aping opening track, “Slice Our Hands (We Are Blood Sisters).” Alas, this high school poetry is one of the best tunes on a slipshod, Hillary Duff-lite album.
Due to the low quality of the songs, having such an assortment of guest stars on Regional Community Theater damns it all the more. Bemis, Sabatino and Johnson are pretty much wasted here, although Bemis’ second track, “Maxim and the Headphone Life,” does play like the G-rated kid sister to “Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too.” Take that as you will. Not that the guys don’t try; they just can’t save the material. Pryor gets credit for the melodramatic piano ballad “Cooper, Thanks for the Birds,” if only because the song could be a decent New Amsterdams track – provided Sperber shuts the hell up.
Not that the record is completely terrible. Pursel’s compositions for Regional Community Theater are solid enough. It’s a dance record, and he provides the listener with such, although the low end could use some more cojones. The weak point is in the lyrics – they suck. Hard. “Always we’ll be searching/For something/Something perfect” goes the first part of the chorus to “Slice Our Hands (We are Blood Sisters).” Drop the cred bid via enlisting Bemis and Pryor and try writing as well as them instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment