My Favorite

My Favorite

The Kids Are All Wrong

Double Agent

This band could be your life.

The third in their “Joan of Arc awaiting trial” trilogy, on this EP, The Kids Are All Wrong, My Favorite jettisons the comparisons that have dogged their every step and display the cool, post wave brilliance they excel in. No longer a band that wears its New Wave influences on their sleeves; they have transcended their influences. This EP demonstrates why My Favorite are not only one of the best bands of their generation, but also one of the more brilliant. The four tracks that make up The Kids Are All Wrong illustrate their staggering ability to meld trenchant observations of the bed-sitter’s world with melodies and rhythms that compel one to dance.

The EP begins with “Burning Hearts.” The song highlights Andrea Vaughn’s vocal skills and is a haunting elegy to a friendship on the wane. “I was an architect, she was an actress. I drew the Eiffel Tower on her dress, so we could see the world,” she sings. Her beguiling vocals cannot help but display the fragile scene of isolation between the narrator and the nameless girl.

“The Radiation” continues the theme with alternate singer, Michael Grace Jr. (together, he and Andrea Vaughn share vocal duties on all My Favorite releases) sings about “waiting for the bomb to drop.” On this track, as on the others, the band splits metaphors and allows the spaces within the cryptic lyrics to open up. He sings on the chorus, “Let’s go out in the radiation,” and it makes sense.

The last two tracks, “Rescue Us,” and “The Lesser Saints” are as compelling as those that preceded them. The final track finds Grace singing through a vocoder, while on “Rescue Us,” Vaughn waxes eloquently: “even Goths need rosaries.”

Throughout, My Favorite offers an unending series of musical and lyrical reminders why they are one of the best bands you have never heard. Similar in scope to such luminaries as The Magnetic Fields, The Smiths, and New Order, My Favorite reflects the unique concerns of a thoroughly middle class existence. Suburban shopping centers, mall based Goths, and strip mall discotheques are all examined in their musical microcosm. The angst and ennui of being an adolescent and alone in the suburban sprawl finds expression here, in the shimmering synthesizers and bass lines of My Favorite. Here too, within the guitars and Michael and Andrea’s delivery, the inexpressible lurks. For kids too smart for the Linkin Parks of the world and too young for The Smiths, My Favorite fills a void.

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