The beautiful thing about irony in music is that, when it's done just right, the thematic ambiguity it can imply is infectious for some and will leave others turned right off – and the difference all boils down to an individual listener's sensibilities. It's really all about taste; one man's trash is another man's treasure and how a listener regards any particular record (but especially those which use irony as a key ingredient) depends entirely upon the values that a listener was already holding when they walked in and started listening at the beginning of the experience. A good example of the duality that a record can have lies in the self-titled debut by Mini Mansions. As the record opens, the pall cast by the descending synth riff and vocal melody of “Vignette #1” will have some listeners beginning to feel a little but down in the mouth as singer Michael Shuman already appears a bit unhinged and a hair out of joint emotionally from the outset of these proceedings. For those listeners, it will be perfectly reasonable to assume that the singer has long since come undone and what's to follow will be some contrived cabaret masquerading as catharsis and, for those listeners led to that impression, the album will begin to feel like a chore really early. Conversely, the other people listening won't be fooled so easily; they'll notice that darkness which ensnared some listeners but, at about the same moment Shuman dribbles out that bit of sleazy vocal tremolo with the words, “Wait and see – you and I,” the game is up – Mini Mansions will be a theatrical presentation in the same way Pink Floyd's The Wall was (that same vocal tremolo appears as The Wall begins to crumble and Roger Waters dribbles out the “Crazy – I'm over the rainbow” refrain toward the end of the record), but with some stellar pop songwriting a la Curtains For You and the more pharmaceutically saturated side of The Beatles laced in for accessibility; the result is a skewed pop fabrication as it would be if one imagined The Beatles leading Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band down the K-Hole.
From the very beginning of “Vignette #1,” there is an air of unease exuded by Shuman which will be attractive to those who get a bit of escapist joy from hearing a bit of madness mixed into their pop, but there is more at work here to appeal to listeners than just that sense of looming mania. In songs like “Seven Sons,” “Kiddie Hypnogogia,” “Majik Marker” and “Thriller Escapade” all expose a compositional maturity and structure which rivals that of most bands' fifth or even sixth releases (when they make it that far); the catch is that listeners have to make it past the 'weirdness factor' – the hypnotizing keyboards and gang melodies contrasted against a very haunting, dystopian undertone – that the band always leads with as its' first instinct. If/when listeners make it past that point, they begin to discover the finer points of musicianship that the band clearly has at its' disposal, the trick is learning to take the record on its' own terms instead of any particular listener's own; on the surface, Mini Mansions simply sounds hollow and theatrical but, after listeners bend to the record's will, then it begins to open up and yield things of beauty quite unlike anything else in pop. Such a single-minded vision as that expressed by Mini Mansions on their debut is simultaneously fascinating (for some) and frustrating (for others) because it is spotlessly unique – no matter how much some might try to call it derivative (of The Beatles, of theatrical presentations, of Pink Floyd – whatever). How is it qualified as such? There's no easy way to answer that, the proof of a listener's opinion will only come in listening for oneself and, even then, it'll still be interesting to see what they do next, love them or hate them.
Artist:
www.myspace.com/minimansionsmusic
www.rekordsrekords.com/
Download:
Mini Mansions – "The Room Outside" – Mini Mansions
Album:
Mini Mansions is out now. Buy it here on Amazon .
