Well, I hadn't intended this to be the latest installment in my "Dead Bands" series, but what are you going to do? When nobody was looking (maybe that was the problem), New York City's the Fever went and broke up a few weeks ago (playing their last show together October 5 on a floating boat).
Gentlemen, I hardly knew ye.
To be honest, I hadn't known ye AT ALL until yesterday, when I first heard your last (and final) album, In the City of Sleep. What does this album sound like? Well... your own MySpace page sort of spells it out: "Junkyard clank, Sun Studio reverb, Stax abandon, Fellini-esque circus music and 50's noir to create an intense and mysterious landscape somewhere between the nightmare rock n' roll of The Bad Seeds and the Beach Boys' lullabies of lost innocence."
A bit hyperbolic, perhaps, but it at least sets the stage. Sort of an assortment of messy variations on the theme of The Munsters. Playful. But in the way that drunks can be playful before they turn ugly. But ugly in an endearing way. But endearing in the way that your grandfather is endearing simply because he's old and set in his ways and can't help himself and because you sure as hell don't want to deal with the whole guilt-trip thing once the old, moldy coot finally has the decency to give up the ghost and kick.
This, in the end, is the soundtrack to THAT.
[MP3] "Crying Wolf"
[MP3] "Bye Bye Betty Blue"
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