Neon Blonde

When it comes down to it, negative reviews serve one purpose: to invoke laughter from the reader. After reading reviews, bands aren't going to say, "Hey bandmates! Zed from Scene Point Blank said our new album blows chode. Let's have a band meeting under the waterfall in ten and discuss how we're going to please Zed's ears." Actually, with the power and influence some online zines have, maybe bands do care about that stuff. Then again, if it's a hardcore record and you write a negative review, it's considered talking shit and who knows what to expect from that. But, we're not talking about hardcore punk music, we're talking about Neon Blonde's Chandeliers in the Savannah, an auditory menstrual cycle that isn't even productive if you brush it onto a canvas. This is a negative review.

Before anything comes out of the butt, it goes into the mouth. For vocalist Johnny Whitney, this includes such greats as The Blood Brothers and not so greats as Soiled Doves. The stool that is Neon Blonde most resembles the pop conscious of The Blood Brothers' Crimes with a lot more crotch thrusts and dance beats. The resemblance to The Blood Brothers probably has a lot to do with Mark Gajadhar, drummer of The Blood Brothers, co-writing the music and Whitney's high-pitched sassy shrill. This is the kind of music that 16-year-old girls have dance parties to and take pictures for their Myspace accounts. The wide diversity of instruments used sounds like it's going somewhere, but then it gets sliced by the crazy spazzy parts. Why can't they choose either the soothing pop angles or the second rate Blood Brothers sound?

Don't worry, Chandeliers in the Savannah isn't all peanut filled poo poo; so there is hope. Listening to "Chandeliers and Vines" reminds me of the great and short lived Seattle punk band The Vogue. If lounge singers drank vats of LSD and the ceiling lights pulsated with drooling excitement, this is what I'd imagine dark cellars would sound like. While occasionally the other songs do delve into this style, this song has the largest percentage of non-screaming-fingers-to-the-sky-driving-pop-elixir. Neon Blonde, the dance stuff you're trying is played out and contrived, please do more songs like this. Because in the end we all want to listen to fucked up pop music with lyrics like, "The world's just a big fucking baby factory." The overtly sassy stuff should be saved for The Blood Brothers with your new fan base that eats it up like bleached hair tips.

Let's conclude, Neon Blonde. For the most part Chandeliers in the Savannah is a failure. One song in particular shows promise and I'm pleading for you to flock in that direction. Pretty please? Oh, and for the readers, I tried my hardest to be funny but as usual I'm too random and wacky. My bad.

2.5 / 10 — Zed