Amanda Palmer, vocalist and pianist of The Dresden Dolls, coaxes a lullaby out of the piano in front of her. Palmer fights to keep her voice under a whisper as the opening tack, “Good Day,” quickly crescendos into a barrage of Brian Viglione’s erratic drum beats and heavy piano chords.
The Boston duo’s self titled debut achieves a consistent sound without becoming monotonous, something many successful bands struggle to perfect. The songs are reminiscent of 1940’s German cabaret. Palmer’s expressive voice comes off as more acting than singing and adds an element of playfulness to the album.
Songs range from the bluesy, “Gravity,” to the paranoid piano speed anthem, “Girl Anachronism,” and the haunting “Slide,” but all the songs are consistent in musical style.
Though Palmer claims to have had no classical piano training, her delicate hand is apparent in songs like the staccato and rushed “Bad Habit.” Palmer’s fingers pull away from the keys as quickly as she hits them as if they were a hot stove instead of a piano. Palmer’s voice is as punctuated as the notes she plays. Viglione matches the sharpness of Palmer’s piano; the two instruments blend into one.
Songs like “Perfect Fit” value lyrics and emotion over complex music scores. The piano is kept simple and light and nearly fades to the background when Palmer’s sultry whisper details all of her imperfections. The song continues in a similar fashion as Viglione’s drums become just a small but necessary murmur in the background. Palmer’s lyrical genius comes to a head when she sings, “I can take a vow and I can wear a ring and I can make you promises but they won’t mean a thing.” The song then speeds up and Viglione’s intricate drum work is showcased as Palmer slams on the piano with as much intricacy as a toddler.
Though this album is not considered a concept album, there is a common theme carried throughout many of the songs. The third track on the album, “Missed Me,” takes inspiration from a childhood rhyme and transforms it into a darker tale. Palmer delivers the lyrics, “Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me…” as if she were telling a scary story with a flashlight under her face. The lyrics begin to weave a story of a pedophile placed in prison that is still wanted by his young female victim, portrayed by Palmer. Similarly, the next track, “Half Jack,” takes the story of Jack and Jill and adds undertones of divorce and the difficulties of being split between parents. “Slide,” one of the last tracks on the album, tells a story of girl who gets kidnapped at a playground and forced into prostitution. Palmer’s eloquent lyrics relay the stories with astonishing clarity and defined style.
Each individual song on The Dresden Doll’s debut is surprisingly original but the order in which they are put on the album raises a few eyebrows. The album jostles the listener around as if they were on the El. One song will epitomize female aggression and the next will sound submissive and insecure. Though the order is questionable the range of emotion and quality of the songs overshadow any qualms that the listener might have about the organization of the album.
The debut album from the Dresden Dolls is astonishing. Many upcoming bands risk regurgitating what other bands have already accomplished but the Dolls have a unique sound and even more distinctive lyrics.