Eric Saeger
Back for more seductive flashing of her Raggedy Ann-stockinged knees from behind the safety of her keyboards is Amanda Palmer, proffering another compendium of hyper-angst co-gloomed by her male Meg, Brian Viglione. Less theatrical than their eponymous rookie effort, Yes Virginia will also be (aside from the post-post-whatever “Necessary Evil”) a disappointing experience for anyone hoping for more X-like punking in the vein of “Girl Anachronism.” Granted, some Kit Kat Klub non sequituring bandies keywords like masturbation about (“Shores of California”) and provides backing for further disturbing revelations about her disturbing friends, but after decades now of sociopathic DIY-ers literally chucking feces at their audiences those are just ticks on the style-point checklist. As with any musical artifact, however, everything boils down to the songwriting, and there is simply nothing wrong here. “Sing,” may be a shameless “rock-on” pandering to the mopey gimps in the crowd and the sort of big-buildup Vegas-rock number that’s avoided like leper lotion by anyone whose posturing demands they avoid all possible comparisons to Elton John, but the all-out abandonment at the coda is a marvel. The 70s hawking peaks at “Dirty Business,” wherein the spirit of ELO comes through with a laser-guided chartbuster, cementing the band’s place at the top of the cabaret-rock heap and finalizing their de facto appointment as the Black Stripes. Order from Amazon.com
