One of the most strangely memorable things from this year's Sónar Festival was Scissor Sisters' surprise appearance. Unbeknownst to the audience, they'd been smuggled onto the schedule under the name White Diet (UK), and when they bounded on stage to close out the later afternoon portion of the second day, it was obvious the techno-friendly crowd was thrilled-- maybe even relieved-- to see them. Of course, context had something to do with that, but as the chaser to anywhere from 48 to 72 hours of straight techno (depending on how early in the week one started), Scissor Sisters' triple-layer cake of showmanship, falsettos, and 1970s AORisms felt like a treat.
On record, though, their extravagance becomes a hurdle. Not only are the Sisters' bawdy pop tracks overripe with in-jokey musical gags, they're relentlessly, almost confrontationally exuberant. "Subtlety" is not a part of the band's vocabulary; they're practically incapable of committing a hook, rhythm, or vocal to tape that isn't amped to cartoonish levels. While this mostly works for their singles, it makes their albums a different proposition altogether.
In other words, if you're not already predisposed to Scissor Sisters' campy ways, Ta-Dah! isn't going to change your mind. Even more streamlined, pop-minded, and high-spirited than their 2004 self-titled debut, it's as if they're single-mindedly attempting to depose the world's problems with a rigorous dance and good times regimen. But by the fourth or fifth song to bite a rhythm from the Muppet Jug Band, it's hard not to feel suspicious-- which is why how you square up with this band ultimately hinges on exactly what you get from their singles.
I personally get a lot. Whether that's down to my generally liberal attitudes towards anachronistic bands or the fact that Elton John and Bee Gees records were household staples while I was growing up is hard to say, but so long as Scissor Sisters are turning out joyously overstuffed choruses like the laser-drenched "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'" and the rollicking glam of "She's My Man" (on which they surprise by pilfering from early 80s-era John, specifically "I'm Still Standing"), everything else is easy to overlook. Happily, about half of this record is potential single material, from the Ana Matronic-led near-electro of "Kiss You Off" or icy "The Other Side" (complete with !!!-jacking arpeggios), to the slippery disco of "Ooh".
That still leaves you with a good 25 minutes to fill, though, and where Scissor Sisters had the luxury of consulting five years' worth of demos for their debut, you can tell they have a bit more trouble here. Frustratingly, they resort to mugging for the camera whenever at a loss for direction. "I Can't Decide" is a honky-tonk/cabaret hybrid that drowns in its own clever-cleverness; "Paul McCartney" plays a joke on funk by speeding it up to a comical tempo; and "Intermission" is a long two minutes of speakeasy piano curlicues and Vaudevillian affectations. As a strategy, it rarely works, but thankfully those moments are few and far enough between that Ta-Dah! is surprisingly recommendable. Turns out these guys can still write some songs; imagine how good they'll be if they realize they don't need to bother with jokes too.
