The Bitter Tears

Jam Tarts in the Jakehouse

(Carrot Top)

Record Review by Amber Henson

I hope this has nothing do with the fact that I’m part of the "MTV Generation" (whatever the crap that means by this point), but an awesome riff on some odd instrument or from a synth for thirty seconds can start to get awfully annoying around minute four.  Which is, unfortunately, what most of The Bitter Tears songs clock in at.  I’ll say “Ooh, now that’s in interesting metallic scrapping sound combined with that strong beat,” and then by the end of the song I am deleting that sentence from my notes.  I guess it’s appropriate.  I can’t really seem to make up my mind about this band.  Listening to it in the background I like it, but sitting and doing nothing but paying attention to it, I don’t like it.

This band is kind of folksy, country-alternative, New Orleans-y.  Sometimes they remind me a little bit of Man Man in their chaos and group singing.  Other times they get very Eighties.  There’s a brass section occasionally, and I would tell you the members of that section, except on the album, the band has chosen to list their names followed by unnecessary organs and sad feelings.  Odd. 

The band (Alan Scalpine, Greg Norman, Michael McGinley, Foster Lee, and John Leonard) is adept at their instruments, and they have a good sense of harmony, but there’s something off about them.  Maybe they do, in fact, fit with their band name.  This is definitely true about the second to last song, “The Love Letter” which is about some disservice done to the singer’s mother in his youth.  “I rob your grave!” he yells at the disservice-er towards the end of a song.  Another song laments how a young mother doesn’t want her baby. 

You can see that it’s pretty easy to get bogged down in it all if you listen too closely. So, unless you’re looking to be sad, make sure you’re multitasking.