demons, you are the stars in cars ’till I die
A “parental warning”: On the song “Radio,” Pitty Sing vocalist Paul Holmes is not, I repeat, not singing “We’ll flick on the radio.” Just what he is singing about makes no sense (“We’ll fuck on the radio/Ooh ooh ooh ÿahh ahh ahh/We’ll make it go ooheey oh ahh”), but that’s not necessarily a requirement of bands today (or yesterday, for that matter). What matters is that the band sounds so simultaneously meandering and driven, like guys who are lost but don’t want to ask for directions because they’re enjoying the ride.
Just when you’re saying to yourself, “that’s only the first track — can they sustain it,” comes the just as stylish but somewhat more substantial “We’re On Drugs”:
“When she’s not at home/I walk this world alone/Until she gets the phone/Go to sleep in this state/But as soon as I awake/The sun reveals her face/And then it comes when it feels like we’re in love/Just remember…we’re on drugs”
All in a song that proves the truth of one of the great pull-quotes in music criticism, supplied with this CD:
“If this music was any lusher, we’d have to fuck it.” — Insound
This is the most promising EP I’ve heard since Lifestyle’s Frontier. And you remember how quickly that shot to the top of the charts. Like that band, Pitty Sing is trying to approximate the new wave sound, something I always admire. Tight, exciting keyboards straight out of OMD are all over the first couple songs, even though Holmes claims not even to have been born when they were on the radio.
Sadly, the remainder of the EP is easily dismissible; though “The Wedding Song” has a likable electronic opening. But assuming that’s the equivalent of album fodder or “b-sides,” Pitty Sing should be very close to making a breakthrough in the next couple of years.
Pitty Sing: www.pittysing.com