I once saw Tom Snyder interview Pat Sajak. Pat was deliciously sarcastic, exhibiting a dune-dry sense of humor and scalpel wit rarely hinted at in his on-air demeanor. Snyder eventually goaded Sajak into telling viewers the stupidest thing he'd ever heard a contestant say. Sajak smiled mischievously and told the story of a woman who, faced with the following puzzle-- "A_raham _inco_n"-- enthusiastically chirped "Abraham Bincoln."
Snyder and Sajak had a good chuckle over this, like the Burbank TV bastards they are, and moved on to some vaguely tawdry discussion of Vanna White or something. Anyway, after hearing Psychedelicate for the third or fourth time, it occurred to me that this would be pretty terrible music to listen to before a test, before taking the stand as a witness, or before a job interview. The album's disorientingly lush sound does to your mind what the invisible protagonist of that old Hellen Keller joke does to her living room: walks in, moves shit around, and leaves you bumping misplaced couches and sitting on toilet plungers. If you're not careful it could have you guessing "Bincoln" over and over.
Yes, Motor City damsels the Slumber Party have put together a lovely codeine- and absinthe-tinged pop platter that should put a stupid, happy smile on your face even as it puts you to sleep. If your mom had been the coolest mom on the block she might have sung you these tunes as lullabies.
Alicia Berg's children, if she has any, might someday boast of having had the coolest mom on the block. Her airy voice is the focal point of Slumber Party's music, and her melodies keep things charmingly soporific. Berg's voice is like a less nasal Nico, minus the Euro-accent and thankfully free of that existential misery the Velvets' singer was so obsessed with.
Drowsiness is the main side effect of Slumber Party's music-- who'd have thought?-- but there's much for the alert mind to enjoy here. Matthew Smith (of the Volebeats and Outrageous Cherry) produced this reverb-party of an album and his sonic stewardship is even and expert. The album never jars, and one scarcely notices the transitions from kit drums to Casio-beats, instead concentrating on the constant dialogue between Berg's vocal lines and Gretchen Gonzales' meandering guitar work.
"Bag of Spiders," and "Everyone Else I Know," the latter of which sounds a bit like a low-budget Stereolab, are the album's standouts. Then again, all the songs are fairly good, if basically interchangeable. The Velvet Underground and the vocal delivery of Mazzy Star's Hope Sandoval are the usual sonic touchstones in describing Slumber Party's music. Neither example, however, comes especially close to the mark. There's a bouncy optimism and space to these songs that defy references to older, darker material. So what if the title sounds like one of those insipid "Before and After" puzzles on "Wheel?"
