Paradise Boys

The Young and the Guest List (5 Points)

Electroclash is so 2002 – who cares? Certainly not the Paradise Boys, who've been staging a revival of the genre practically since the day asymmetrical haircuts and leg warmers went outta style (again). And on their full-length debut, The Young and the Guest List, a version of which was released in early 2004 by Prince House, the San Francisco sextet (formed by the inescapable Jeff "Jefrodisiac" Fare and Bertie Pearson) actually make a fun case for electroclash's return. Sure, the title track induces mass eye-rolling with cutesy, self- and scene-obsessed lyrics like "We get in for free / Yeah, she's with me," but the disc is a worthy dance-floor rave-up when the group aren't so concerned with big-upping their own fabulous lives. Among the highlights are the infectious "Did It Again," the house number "Summer of Love," and especially the Siouxsie Sioux-inspired "I Burn for You," which finds covocalist Liz Hanley letting loose an unnerving banshee wail that would probably make the object of her affection take out a restraining order. All of which makes for an impressive debut, except for the fact that the Paradise Boys had previously promised the CD would be a "dance-fuck explosion," and really, what can live up to that? (Jimmy Draper)

John Vanderslice

Pixel Revolt (Barsuk)

He's so pop, John Vanderslice. He wears it like an innocent bandanna that adorns any uniform the varying circumstances of his characters and ruminations might require: a proverbial black beret in skeptical urbania ("Exodus Damage"), coffee camo and night-vision goggles in tremulous Baghdad ("Plymouth Rock"), dark sunglasses and trench coat in plastic TV-land ("Peacocks in the Video Rain") – all more or less satisfyingly subtle but still so clearly molded from a stock, often thin idea ("I lost the reason I'm here") that they feel kinda cheap. But that's pop. The snoozy hitch of Pixel Revolt is that these offbeat, occasionally eyebrow-lifting snapshot poems are sung over modern folk-rock musical landscapes that, while presented through warm, organic ambience, wear thin, and are often blushingly standard and sometimes even dull. The production itself, cleaner and friendlier than that of 2004's grainy Cellar Door, is also more pleasant than exciting. Then there are Vanderslice's lyrics (poems?). Are they of the literary status much sought by indie introspectives of this breed? Yeah ... when the barren romance and earnest provocation of Vanderslice's best ideas and images melds with his analog mastery, the result will tug heartstrings across the world. If his words seem too small, too easy, too sudden – as they will sometimes – all I can say is, it's pop. (Ian Port)

Mail stuff for review to Sarah Han, Bay Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., SF CA 94107.