You're a Woman, I'm a Machine

by

Death From Above 1979

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Here's a quick look at You're a Woman, I'm a Machine by the numbers:

Power ballads: None

Whining: None

Lyrics about feelings: None

Acoustic guitars: None

Guitars, period: None

Socially redeeming value: none

Pretentiousness: None

Percentage of this album's running time that makes me bang my head, tap my foot, or even make me attempt something bearing a passing resemblance to dancing: 100

With a breakdown like that, it's easy to see why Death From Above 1979 were able to lend a brief injection of vitality to the too-often dull and self-important world of rock. There may not be any guitars on this album, but the atomic riffs and screeching feedback of Jesse F. Keeler's bass and the relentlessly frenetic drum patterns of Sebastian Granger intertwine to create some of the most infectious, memorable, and downright enjoyable music released so far this decade, regardless of genre. Sure, every song sounds basically the same, with some faster and thrashier and some slower and more pummeling, but at 11 tracks covering about thiry minutes You're a Woman, I'm a Machine isn't around long enough to wear out its welcome. From opening to closing, Death From Above's debut full-length (and apparently their valedictory as well) is populated exclusively with sweaty, swaggering, libidinous tunes, topped by suggestive lyrics delivered in styles ranging from falsetto crooning to fearsome, confrontational shouts.

One could, if one were so inclined, go ahead and analyze the individual songs on this album, but that would miss the point. This is not an album to be analyzed; it's an album to be felt, enjoyed, experienced, and remembered; an album whose songs will bounce around in your head for days after hearing it and bring a grin to your face; an album that even had my wife banging her head upon hearing it. It's a reminder to the sorry likes of Nickelback and Staind that rock music can, even should, be fun, not an excuse for mopey whining about feelings and relationships. And even beyond all that, it's just a good time, something that's too rarely had for everybody. You could do a lot worse than to put away your complaint rock and give this album a spin.

Featuring only two individuals (which at this point is beginning to seem like the rule rather than the exception) Death From Above 1979 provide quite the pulverizing clatter. Armed with merely drums and bass guitar, this duo serve up big, industrial-tinged dance rockers that are powerful and groovy. The sound here is suprisingly metal-tinged with vocals that sound dangerously close to Jeff Buckley with the occassional added splatter of synthesizer. "Romantic Rights" is easily the show stealer with it's stop-time riffing, come hither vocals and pedal-to-the floor tempo. Notable mention also goes to the pulsing "Black History Month" and the plodding "Little Girl." It's kinda sexy, kinda angry, and either makes you want to shake your booty and possibly bang your head or even both at once. Although versatility isn't one of the band's bragging points, YOUR A WOMAN, I'M A MACHINE is uncompromising in its approach to provide one bottom-heavy hard rock fiesta.