Within seconds, Richard III directed me to ("the deliciously odd") Evelyn Evelyn, conjoined twin sisters who predict, at the conclusion of their eponymous first albumn, that "love will tear us apart again"; I like people from Dresden who quote people from the SS who exploit dolls.
That song always brings a tear to my eye; I get so emotional that I confuse it with "our song" (which my beloved Katherina will tell you is actually this ode to love's inexplicability). Indeed, in spite of the humour of their premise, Evelyn Evelyn retained the melancholy of Ian Curtis's moment; even for these Siamese twins, separation is hurtful, inevitable; perhaps the only truth.
My opening experience found their music suspiciously close to the beautiful folksy singer/song-writer music that I tend to avoid, but clever and witty enough to get away with it. The songs develop depth in the context of the albumn; the surreal coherence they have is bolstered by actual linear narrative
My Space comments cutely on the pressures of desire and deprivation in a consumer society ("you can't always want you get"), before devolving into a satirical celebration of social networking; the cry "I just want my space!"); of course this tension around social contact and social contracts; the desire to connect and the desire define one's space, is more absurd and melodramatic and beautiful for the conjoined, especially with climactic yacht rock synths and electronic drum fills.
Elephant Elephant on the first listening was a cute song about the charms of pachyderms; in the autobiographical freak show of Evelyn Evelyn, the elephants are the beloved conjoined pets and co-performers; it is their death that drives the narrative, leaving standard lurid Lynchian surrealism in their wake.
Thank you, Richard III, for this beautiful contribution to my life.
