You know how it gets around exam time...you spend two days trying to memorize Russia's emancipation of the serfs in 1861 (well, let's hope I remembered that right). What drags me out of a funk created by the differences between westernizers and slavophiles? My favourite band, good ol' Dead and Divine! So far, I have featured a song on this blog from their most recent album, and the one that came before that. Though I'm still missing something from The Fanciful, I will revisit their lovely EP What Really Happened At Lover's Lane. I usually find that a band's first EP, or even their full-length album debut is typically grittier and "not as good" as their later releases. This isn't the case for the greatest band in the world. I bought it from itunes after getting both The Fanciful and The Machines We Are, and it sits at the same wondrousity level as both.
The highlight (of many)? "Josephine, The Singer."
Here, you've got your alternative/hardcore guitars that aren't too cheery and just rough enough to fit with the mood of the song. Oh, Mr. Tobin...that voice....clean in the verses, and then you get some nice throat selections in between. And the lyrics....I'm drooling. Literally sitting here in a pool of my own drool. That's how much of a fangirl I am for these guys. They've restored my faith in the "sub-par EP" curse I've seen a thousand times before, the only other exception being Protest The Hero's A Calculated Use Of Sound. I'll leave you with the ending lyrics as I get back to the Permanent Revolution.
I've spent too much time letting you get away with derailing trains,
Like bombs to planes,
You are the reason for all this.
Murder she wrote,
Murder she sang,
Murder was all she could speak.
...sing your heart out?
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