After raising a coupla million bucks on Kickstarter and spending it on a new album, here is the first result of Amanda Palmer's new found wealth, and, not unlike the rest of her music when she's not chasing her Cabaret jones, it is a histrionic hard rocking notall there there pop song.
I realize she has lots and lots of fans, and maybe after I get to see her on stage next month, I'll get the point, but till then I have to listen to this useless dribble and it just goes round and round, a circular melody and a somewhat ugly vocal to decry… what? "I'm really not the killing type?" That might be very true, but it DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING. If she was the killing type it might be more interesting. And anyway, it is not true, we are all the killing types, that's sort of obvious.
The declaimer? "But I would kill to make you real" isn't worth the wait: it isn't really satisfying but Palmer isn't that great a songwriter. She has other gifts, self promotion she is the tops at. But as a songwriter, she should be a cover artist. This song dances on the edge of blandness and all the slashing images and all the unrequited passion she claims isn';t proven in the sound.
Grade: C