4 Reasons Not To Buy White Deer Park by Papa Vs Pretty
- genevavalek
- Mar 17, 2014
- 2 min read
After three years of letting me sit in my room listening to United In Isolation on repeat, Papa Vs Pretty have finally released their sophomore album – a dangerously cool collection of inventive songs they’ve named “White Deer Park”. In light of the opening track Give Me A Reason Not To, I’ve decided to do just that. Five times. People love lists, right?
FOUR REASONS NOT TO BUY THE NEW PAPA VS PRETTY ALBUM
1. First of all, it’s terrible car music. From beginning to end, the album encompasses such a range of intensity and tempo that the ungovernable and ever-changing urge to dance, sway, sing or sob uncontrollably on your trip to work is simply dangerous to other, more sensible drivers. I hereby propose a radio wide ban of Deer White Park, for our own safety. Between the infectious Smother, the accent heavy Suburban Joan of Arc, the epic Dementia Praecox and the charmingly soothing Roses After Dark, an accident is bound to happen.
2. Thomas Rawle’s voice will bewitch you, and the spell is irreversible. Side effects may include fainting, crying and making out with your hand while you listen to his flawless flips between his natural voice and his fine ass falsetto in the collection of modern rock ballads White Deer Park boasts – Let It Begin, Roses After Dark and (the album’s first single) My Life Is Yours.
3.If you like your music without surprises, this definitely isn’t an album for you. It’s musically unconventional, with an innovative use of harmonics (see Rain Check, Whatever Works), violin riffs (see While I’m Still Young, Dementia Praecox) and a hint of electronic experimentation (see To Do), culminating in an individualistic style of modern rock with a bit of a folky edge, not recommended for the faint of heart.
4. Out of the 80+ songs they wrote, only 12 made it to the record. That’s at least 68 songs we’re not hearing. Some might boast the age old mantra “quality over quantity”, but I think the band’s just greedy. Poor form, boys. Poor form.
Review by Maddy Abbott
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