| "Don't get me wrong / I don't mind getting bad reviews / In fact, sometimes, they're the only ones who try and speak the truth." Marc Bianchi has been flirting with the top spot on CMJ's charts for the last several weeks. At this point whether The Young Machines march to Number One may be irrelevant. The point has been made. Everyone loves a Holiday. This year, Death Cab for Cutie took time off to send some letters and piss off the USPS. The resulting soft-core pop of The Postal Service sparked a host of imitators rushing to deliver the goods. Enter Her Space Holiday. But wait - Her Space Holiday have been Purveyors of Fine Indie Products Since 1996; The Young Machines is more re-birth than rush to judgment. It took a change of scenery, trading San Fran's Bay Area for the flats of Austin, Texas, and a professional changing of the guards, from Tigerstyle to Mush, to cement a new emotional anchor. Consequently, The Young Machines is a steady, sturdy ship that sails in raging emotional waters. Unlike the watercolor melancholy of Beck's Sea Changes that completely drowns the listener, Her Space Holiday's sorrow is just as stark but floats well about the surface of the music. Thanks to starkly, often embarrassingly forward lyrics, numbers like "Something To Do With My Hands" and "Meet the Pressure" rub your skin raw with bleach and bits of lyrical gravel. Like the Postal Service, the catch is clearly obvious; sound patterns don't change much, lapping at the shores steady and monotonous. Thankfully, the sound of waves is soothing. The Young Machines never gets old, it is well designed and forged of impeccable character. If Her Space Holiday doesn't make its mark at #1, it need not worry. People have taken notice. - Kludge |
2XLP/Out Of Print