My roommate just gave me the new Pale Young Gentlemen album, which came out yesterday. I’ve been listening to it all day, while driving, while cooking, while bleaching my hair (more on that in another post).
This album is equal parts classical music recital and wild west saloon drinking game. It’s swaggering and grandiose and it’s fucking beautiful. On a few tracks, they sound sort of like Coldplay except if Chris Martin was a pirate. They also remind me of Regina Spektor in this piano-as-time-machine way. The lead singer is theatrical sort of in the way that Rufus Wainwright is theatrical, but less campy I think. They’re like a couple that is doing the tango very sincerely but the man has a rose between his lips and it’s held at a certain jaunty angle that says, We’re in on the joke.