The Dresden Dolls
The Dresden Dolls

THE REVIEW

Amanda Palmer is a loquacious, intense, and naive singer-songwriter; she can play the piano but only by ear. She emerged strengthened from a misfit adolescence and puts it all into music.
Brian Viglione is in love with Amanda; for her, he plays the drums with jazz madness and punk energy, always hitting the cymbals with one eye fixed on his beloved songwriter to catch a little smile of approval and complicity.

They define their music as "brechtian punk cabaret" because they adore the dark atmospheres of the 1920s kabarett, dress accordingly like porcelain dolls, and hope to compose music that is equally decadent and sensual.
But I think it's all a bit more complicated than it appears.
Because, when you listen closely, it's not the captivating image that's the strong point of this duo; the fact is... their music is simply morbidly fascinating.

Already in the opening Good Day, it's clear that Amanda's lyrics and her deep, theatrical voice are the backbone of the dolls. The best comes out precisely in the more intimate tracks, the already mentioned Good Day, Half Jack (biology and psychology, are we truly half our mother and half our father?), Bad Habit (adolescent self-harm explained to adults), The Jeep Song (if you too see your ex's car all over the city), Slide (nursery rhyme that I could well see in a Nick Cave album, with a blazing and painful finale).
Even the "hits" like Girl Anachronism and Coin Operated Boy, behind a wall of nervous notes and relentless rhythms, hide a bitter and unsettling irony.

Someone could easily say that the Dresden Dolls achieved "success" thanks to their image, the beautiful videos, the catchy melodies, but I continue to see something more, even if it's just the disconcerting sincerity of the lyrics or that fiercely introspective spirit of "no longer teenagers but not yet adults," perhaps simply the need for a new melody to keep in the pocket for the present.