Though Kevin Blechdom’s live shows late last year left me bemused, they failed to nourish me musically – it seemed to be a one-joke show relying on the farce of combining banjo, twin laptops and piss-take songs. I left the gigs thinking I’d witnessed the post-millenial Weird Al Yankovic. How wrong I was – Bitches without Britches has single-handedly renewed my faltering interest in music, with its twin prongs of biting wit and inspired musicianship – and I now regret not realising the genius hidden inside that banjo clutching freckled red head. Though on the surface she shares commonalities in method with labelmates Chicks on Speed, Kevin Blechdom’s world is far kookier, yet far more subtle, and possessed of a knowing naivety that belies the complexities of her arrangements, not to mention her satire. Though difficult to take in at first due to the thick strokes with which she coats her canvas (and her perverse sense of humour) there is magic in the musical detail and Blechdom’s strangely affecting world view (which seems to be poised somewhere between Frank Zappa and Mel Brooks). Accompanied by her intricate productions and more than competant banjo playing, not to mention her underrated voice, songs such as the gorgeously sensuous ‘Gutterball’, the glitchabilly of ‘Interspecies Love’ and a cover of, ahem… ‘Private Dancer’ sparkle like a teenage crush. Despite all this praise for details, when it comes down to the nitty gritty – and let’s face it, there’s plenty of nit and grit in Bitches, it would be nothing without the brilliance of Blechdom’s songwriting – tracks twist and turn seemingly at random – yet at every twist there’s a thrilling point of interest, be it a to-die-for vocal inflection, astounding bass burp or ooh-err turn of phrase. Oh, and don’t forget to check the liner notes for an even greater spiral into debauchery.
DH |
