Album Review: Blonds – The Bad Ones
August 13, 2012
by Jenni Lynne Rowell
If you’re a moody bastard like myself; break out the scotch glasses, photos of exes that are now married (with kids) and throw on Blonds debut album The Bad Ones and watch the world get all black and white in front of your very own eyes – through the tears, of course.
No, seriously. I can’t say I gathered much from the name and I thought I was missing something since I had never heard of them before, but now I am really quite happy that I can say that I’ve been a fan from the beginning. The Bad Ones just dropped on the August 7th and I am allllll over it in a bad way.
I have two questions though: Why call yourselves “Blonds” and when are you coming to Atlanta?
Beyond the obvious drama of the vocal delivery, much of the magic is in the track sequence. As implied by the albums opener, “Heartstrings” tugs on your soul.
Instantly, I am transported to the ’50′s where I am going steady with a rebel in a leather jacket and I am sitting at home with pin-curls in my hair pining for a man that loves danger more than he loves me … but thank God for “Amen”. Really. It lifts you from the depths of rejection right into a glitchy, violin-loopy, catchy song that references “Motown playing in the background” followed by the title track which drifts into a series of songs that seem to blend into one another. Not in a bad way, but “Falling” follows “Time” and wakes you from the dreamy coma and makes you want to do a tiny, little dance.
It’s cute. It’s sweet. I almost don’t want to admit how much I like it.
And just when you think you’re kinda happy, “Gospel Kid” kicks in with salty male vocals and makes you a bit somber and reminiscent.
Before you make it to the album’s end, “If Only” invites your entire love-life to flash before your eyes; you’re angry, sentimental and ready to delete your Facebook account. Life just seems a little hopeless.
What I am trying to say is that this song is depressing. And with that said, “Locomotion” is the happy ending.
As I mentioned earlier, the art of this album is in the flow of it. Just when you think you’re ready to end it all, you’re reminded why love is worth all of the “crazy, crazy”. It feels awesome when it works. It makes you want to write songs. It makes you want to shop hand in hand at Ikea. It’s all worth the pain and agony. Or so I hope.
So, perhaps I’ve become a bit too transparent with what I’ve shared/suggested, but isn’t that what good music is supposed to do? Or at least that what I’ve been telling myself as I write this review.
The Bad Ones is worth listening to because it’s very well executed. Of course it’s not the only album out there to nod, steal and borrow from the ’50′s, but it’s crafty, entertaining and as soon as they come to Atlanta, I’ll be there.
Editor’s Note: Jenni Lynne Rowell is a contributor to DeadJournalist. A a music aficionado, chef and entrepreneur, she also writes a food blog.
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