Viewport width =
March 6, 2006 | by  | in Music |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Bachelorette – The End of Things EP

Bachelorette is the swoony lovestruck creation of one Annabel Alpers. Never heard of her? This is her first solo effort, and her first foray into releasing, although she’s an old hand of the Christchurch music community. Annabel is responsible for everything on this album: guitars, keys, vocals and harmonies. She even programs the drum machine, revelling in the obviously electronic beats. Whatever happened to be lying around at the time has been included in this little synth-pop mix ‘n’ match gem.

These intensely private songs are at once whispered intimacy, and sparse, sky high electronica with a million miles between breaths. First track ‘My Electric Husband’ features the lyrics ‘my electric husband makes me milkshakes in the morning/ he’s my blender he’s my juicer he’s my happiness producer.’ Comparisons to the Flaming Lips are called for, and not just for lyrical oddities either. ‘Love is a Drug’s acoustic guitar and heavy-effects synth combo could have come straight out of The Soft Bulletin. Where these songs stand alone from their influences (fans of Cloudboy will find a lot to like) is in Annabel’s sublime harmonies, and her incredible ability to hold back. This less-is-more ethic is all very well, but a couple of tracks (Pebbles and Dirt, On The Four) felt too restrained. I found myself wanting a pay-off for what often seemed to be one long drawn out (albeit beautiful) build up. That aside, this is a little slice of sun-soaked, duvet-wrapped beauty – it just requires time.

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

BORN WITH a cigarette in one hand and The Trial in other, Bea meant to go on as she started. Music wasn’t her first love, but her first love ended in a fight over rightful ownership of a Velvet Underground LP and the kitchen knife, so she chose the kinder option and stuck with it. In her spare time she enjoys casting aspersions, skulking, and making sweeping statements. She never checks her facts: figures it’s a way to live a little, to have arguments with people, then meet them. She’s currently writing a collection of short stories inspired by Schopenhauer’s manifesto of suffering and the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. When it gets published, she’s pretty sure that boy will want to hold her hand.

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. An (im)possible dream: Living Wage for Vic Books
  2. Salient and VUW tussle over Official Information Act requests
  3. One Ocean
  4. Orphanage voluntourism a harmful exercise
  5. Interview with Grayson Gilmour
  6. Political Round Up
  7. A Town Like Alice — Nevil Shute
  8. Presidential Address
  9. Do You Ever Feel Like a Plastic Bag?
  10. Sport
1

Editor's Pick

In Which a Boy Leaves

: - SPONSORED - I’ve always been a fairly lucky kid. I essentially lucked out at birth, being born white, male, heterosexual, to a well off family. My life was never going to be particularly hard. And so my tale begins, with another stroke of sheer luck. After my girlfriend sugge