You Say Party! We Say Die!

Review

You Say Party! We Say Die! - XXXX

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Apparently It’s All She Needs, XOXO

Three years ago You Say Party! We Say Die! made a name for itself with wiley slick post punk pleasure beats. But much has festered for the Canadians since and the once dance floors burners and punk influenced shakers have cooled off. How else can you explain their new album title [XXXX] that stands for love … dark, rainy rainbow love? So wait: you need space apart to piece it all back together, but you still heart us. If this is love we are going to need some serious counseling, YSPWSD.

XXXX is a bold dark change. Lyrically shallow - it may sound like all is well but there is a shitload of spoil wallowing in those tones. While their 2007 effort Lose All Time succeeded more by the pen and production rather than the bands talent, XXXX is literally carried by just the opposite; bringing thundering drums and fuzzy bass lines in like rolling storm clouds. Just test out the buildup in ‘There Is XXX’ or criminally implausible romps from guitar surfing ‘Glory’. And somewhere in between is the slick and heartbroken ‘Laura Palmer’s Prom’ that begs one to drunk-dance yourself out of this depressing life. Even the oft CSS nods like those in ‘Cosmic Wanship Avengers’ are spot on.

Yet XXXX gets way too serious for its own well being by over analyzing existence. Efforts like ‘Lonely Lunch’ take their moody melodic nonsense and seemingly taint every song on the album by infecting each with pieces of its broken heart. Carrying some sort of familiar weight from the last, much of which remains eventually drowns itself in lethal love. Perhaps its Becky Ninkovic’s powerful vocals often crooning rather than crashing – a tough place for dance and punk to cooperate. Or maybe this is in response to her insta-fame induced breakdown during their 2007 tour where she discovered without love, nothing else matters and heartbreak is all part of life’s little game. So I get it - you decided to write out those demons. But it’s this dichotomy: punk versus blundered bliss that at times ruffles XXXX rather than rides and something we’ve all heard before. But do we really want to feel it again?

Sean Kendall