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The album begins with the oceanic electronics of the title track, which is meant to be heard while reading the opening text in the graphics-intensive booklet. It then moves into "Kinski," an ethereal love song to actor Klaus Kinski. Singer Elysabeth Grant languidly relates her desire for "the passion and fury" the troubled thespian represents over an electronic soundscape enhanced by Lisa Fleur's flute and hammered dulcimer from guest Michael Laird of Unto Ashes. The vocal melody seemingly follows its own path across the musical scale, but its disconnection to the music it accompanies is an illusion. "Kinski" pretty much sets the pattern for the rest of the record. Rosenthal layers his synthesizers into the arrangements as if making a particularly warm bed; the singers rest atop the covers, writhing in the throes of their own lucid dreams. Longer pieces like "The Scavenger's Daughter" and "Like a Dog/Letter to Brod" (also meant to be listened to whilst absorbing the text) stand as no less than beautifully realized mini-symphonies, with arias, movements and a sense of flow from one idea to the next that few composers in the rock world can even understand, let alone emulate. Short tracks like "The Doorkeeper" and "The Whipper" serve almost as oases, letting the musical traveler rest for a minute or two, as the bride relates lesser moments of her star-crossed history over ambient beds of electronics. There's nothing here that could be called pop, but some tracks have catchier tunes than others. Audra's Bret Helm guest stars on the calmly menacing "The Lie Which Refuses to Die," as his baritone smoothly croons lyrics like "I'm the one who's rightly to blame for everything they ever wanted that has not come true." "A Livery of Bachelors" gently weaves a waltz into a gossamer curtain of sound, with guest guitars from Helm and Judith's Christopher David and a beautifully nuanced vocal from Spahn Ranch's Athan Maroulis. "All My Lovers" furnishes the record's most conventional melody, as another waltz finds itself prodded along by Grant's lovely singing and Laird's percolating percussion and mandolin. But even these tracks fit better as part of the whole, rather than as separate pieces. This is a truly conceptual work, meant to flow from one section to the next. As such, it takes multiple listens to fully absorb. One hopes that the loyal Goth audience black tape for a blue girl has painstakingly built over the years and adventurous listeners outside of the genre's purview will have the patience to give The Scavenger Bride the attention it deserves to appreciate its remarkable beauty. Michael Toland [buy it] For fans of: Elvis Costello's The Juliet Letters, Kurt Weill, Dead Can Dance |