An exceedingly pretentious review (trust me, it's written to be as such) I wrote up (in about 1/2 hour) about a month ago for an "unpublished writing sample." Why post it, then, you might be asking? Well, mainly because I can.
It’s the idea of form. Care not to rupture the fine skin composed of the flexing tones, rhythms and patterns swarming below the surface, and the overall integrity of the musicianship. It’s the idea of an organized structure that blends unique parts effortlessly. And Lord knows it’s damn hard for any musician to accomplish. Still, in the latest effort Mice Parade (AKA James Pierce and assorted co.), it’s done quite well with only minor setbacks.
“Last Ten Homes” pumps out layer upon layer, one following the next out the floodgates. And yet, regardless of the complexity, between the desperate repetitions aching to be heard just one more time and the cryptic drawling of Pierce, all that have passed are two minutes. It’s absolutely gorgeous, the standout of the album.
And in the end, there surfaces the sounds of a honky-tonk piano/keys with the plunking of guitar strings that sound like the strumming of a harp all amid the distant stomps and claps that echo throughout the whole. Breaking into a choir of the same voice, bass and treble, pipes on the organ follow the dual drum sets and the immediately ascending and descending lines of the keys.
“Double Dolphins on A Nickel” follows with haunting whispers with the nearly androgynous inflections of a lone female voice rasp above and contradict with the full and vibrant colors of the acoustic. Pierce’s voice is introduced to the mix, a foreigner, and continues the pattern of refined conflict.
The element that exists throughout the album, the intertwining of similar patterns and rhythms, pushes the album forward relentlessly, most notably between keys/piano and guitar on “Circle None.”
There is really nothing that this album actually does wrong – it maintains the cohesion of a quality record while its musicianship and innovation never fails to impress. However, there are a few elements that are notable in that lack of strength among a very strong album, a few white spaces noticeable because of their lack of content.
The first track, “Sneaky Red,” rather than build as the rest of the album does, bursts in uninvited with both the laments of a girl and the powerful rock sounds that hardly flow into the rest of the whole. It seems out of place with the whole, despite the fact that it flows nicely into the following track. Whether the first track in its standoffishness is intentional is no doubt impossible to gauge, yet in either case, it almost stages a downfall for the structure of the subsequent whole because of the tone assumed.
Still, and here is the paradox of the comparative structure, because of the fact that the album finds itself similar to such a degree, at times it becomes a monotonous and rather repetitive listen. And even if that similarity had been intended, it cannot save the fault from infecting itself.
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