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Jan 22, 2018







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Vesuvio Solo, Don’t Leave Me in the Dark (Banko Gotiti Records)




Lizzy Rose, Crocodile Tears (self-released)

Funnily enough I was just reading about Melanie, the quirky, mononymed 1960s songstress whom nobody had ever heard of until she suddenly found herself on the Woodstock stage on a Saturday night, 11 p.m. prime-time, in front of 100,000 fans. Compare that to this discombobulated Seattle indie-popper, who was fronting Denver band Vitamins until she was whisked away by Flaming Lips to sing on their Dark Side of the Moon tour, where she learned to make even weirder costumes than she’d had in her early days, all of which puts us at about zero on the substance scale. But her music is actually quite good, evoking a vision of Amanda Palmer’s mousy little sister, trying different things that all sound well-suited and accessible, such as warbling weirdly over acoustic piano shuffle on the title track, tabling some Beth Orton-ish freak-folk in “In Morning Sun” and garage-grunging-out a little on the solemn but comical “Walk The Walk (You’re A W****).” You ask me, she’s Generation Text’s answer to Fiona Apple.
— Eric W. Saeger




Vesuvio Solo, Don’t Leave Me in the Dark (Banko Gotiti Records)
CD reviews: November 17, 2016

11/17/16
By Eric Saeger news@hippopress.com



 Vesuvio Solo, Don’t Leave Me in the Dark (Banko Gotiti Records)

Montreal indie trio rewriting the rules for ’70s/’80s sexy-soul-pop. Their vocal pallette comprises typical late-Aughts 98-pound-weakling softness without relying on too much Beach Boys falsetto, not that it isn’t there from time to time, but it’s really more in line with dream-time post-disco and throwback department-store funk-pop, a fine example of the latter being the title track, which mates MGMT with Gerry Rafferty (yep, I do like pulling out that Rafferty reference, and besides, that combination is gaining steam at an alarming rate among the hipsters, who apparently believe they missed something by not being alive during the late ’70s/early ’80s, not realizing that bands like Triumph and Corey Hart were constantly on the radio). I’ve seen the adjective “timeless” applied to this material, and the 1980s-synth-blooping “Memory Loss” has the right sort of vibe for some sort of neo-Marvin Gaye mick-up, but (A) it tries too hard, and (B), it’s short on hook-age. Interesting approach anyway. B-





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