Amanda Palmer
Who Killed Amanda PalmerRoadrunner Records
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Produced by Dresden Doll Amanda Palmer and purported Dolls fan boy Ben Folds, Who Killed Amanda Palmer finds its namesake still repeatedly toeing the macabre line in her first solo effort. Piano crescendos and speech interludes ring throughout the record, with Palmer’s just barely flat vocals – somewhat reminiscent of an out-of-tune music box – offering a bizarre accompaniment to her epically creepy songs.
Dutifully noting her burlesque attire and face paint when onstage, Palmer is foremost a performer and secondarily a songwriter. This priority reversal works well for the obvious attention-grabbers on the album, namely the circular “Runs In the Family”, – the record’s most glaring lyrical failure – and opener “Astronaut: A Short History of Nearly Nothing”, a powerful and startling scorned-woman narrative. Additionally, “Astronaut” provides the clearest illustration of the way Palmer’s vocals influence a song that, if sung by anyone else, would be entirely different and far less scary.
“Ampersand” bears Folds’ mark most clearly, with Palmer taking on an unexpected vulnerability. The resulting suppression of the rest of the album’s edginess is a welcome break, and Palmer’s star-crossed lover’s lament contains some of the most meaningful writing on the album. “I’m not gonna live my life on one side of an ampersand”, Palmer pleads rather than declares, a nuance lost elsewhere.
Contemporarily, the settling-for-less message of “What’s the Use of Wond’rin?” (from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel) is thoroughly depressing, and Palmer’s cover, featuring Annie Clark aka St. Vincent, is appropriately heartbreaking and true to the original. It is, however, unfortunately followed by “Oasis,” a puzzling pop number that begs for uncomfortable laughter by following the story of a rape victim who pursues an abortion, only to forget the ordeal when Oasis sends her an autographed letter.
As do The Dresden Dolls, Who Killed Amanda Palmer showcases Palmer’s unshakable talent for showmanship, but the music, usually entertaining but largely meaningless, suffers as a result.
– Becky Carman
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