Her Space Holiday

The Past Presents The Future

(Wichita)

Record Review by Daniel Brody

The question arises during the latest Her Space Holiday record: Are you serious or not?  Lead singer Marc Bianchi has crafted another fine album of indie-pop, with low-key Beulah-ish vocals and sleepy romantic beats.  It all sounds as warm and inviting as a Saturday morning cup of coffee; it is almost as if the amplifiers pumping out the electronics are wrapped in Kleenex to soften the blow.  But does he really mean it?

Case in point: the second track, "Missed Medicine."  Over a backing track that sounds like The Postal Service finally finding the Prozac in the medicine cabinet, Bianchi coos "One, two, three, let's all exploit our misery!"  It sounds mocking, as if the band is firmly on the righteous side of burying every emo band under gallons of nearly dry cement.  But then the next song launches into Bianchi's own crushing depression over his lack of faith and the unbearable weight he carries on his shoulders.  Which is it, buddy?  Or there's "A Match Made In Texas," where Bianchi seems to make every reference to American culture with a big sarcastic smirk in his voice.  Where do you stand, man?  The album seems stuck at a crossroads where it wants to hate on the crutches certain people rely on, and then one song later finds the band sobbing in search of pity.

Even so, there's no denying how catchy and comfortable the grooves are on this album.  There are all sorts of fun audio gimmicks: a sped-up Kanye-like sample on "The Good People of Everywhere," swooning, romantic canned strings on "You and Me," and even some tropicalia instrumentation on the aforementioned "Match Made in Texas."  There's not a lot of gloss, just the simple pleasures of back porch electronics and Bianchi's made in and also meant for the bedroom vocals.  It would be nice if the beating heart behind these songs could be trusted to sing with less of a wink, but overall The Past Presents the Future is a great album for engaged couples who want to remind themselves what making out feels like, and whose tongues get too tired to fake it after a few minutes.