Music Review
Don’t be fooled by Dolls’ flamboyance

By Charles Young
George Washington High School

With “Yes, Virginia...,” The Dresden Dolls have created the most bizarrely brilliant, genre-defying musical hybrid in alternative music. Combining the energy and spirit of punk rock with the theatrical flair of cabaret, the Boston duo draws heavily from the 1920s German burlesque/cabaret shows that thrived during the Weimar Republic.

The band takes its name from Dresden, Germany, the site of a controversial U.S. bombing in World War II. “Yes, Virginia...” is the pair’s second album, and it builds strongly on the sound of their self-titled debut, which brought them national attention. This record, though, comes off as more accessible and listener friendly.

On first listen, you might think you’ve picked up the soundtrack to a Broadway musical turned upside down. The Dolls sound has a surprising elasticity, sounding like Tom Waits one minute and Doris Day the next. And they manage to pull a strong, full-bodied sound out of only a piano and drums.

Lead singer Amanda Palmer, with her resonant voice, takes full advantage of the theatrics of her influences, adding passionate screams and spoken asides to the already rich music. Her songwriting style explores the fringe areas of love and the dark areas of society. She shatters the vintage illusion, though, by making references to modern life, adding a layer of stylish contradiction to the music.

The album’s crowning moment is “My Alcoholic Friends,” a catchy, bouncing song where Palmer’s voice flirts over lyrics about alcoholism and murder. Drummer Brain Viglione complements her perfectly, keeping flawless time with her vigorous piano.

On “Sing,” the Dolls craft a slow-burning ballad, recalling the feeling of a beer hall anthem. On “Sex Changes,” Palmer sings an oddly catchy song about the consequences of a gender bending operation. Her vocal range transitions from a threatening whisper to an ear-slitting scream, adding the effect of a much larger presence than that of one woman.

When Palmer and Viglione perform live, they wear the dress and make-up that half evokes the feel of their German forefathers and half the macabre look of goth. Their merchandise is emblazoned with the slogan, “Punk Cabaret is Freedom.” Some have called this flamboyance a gimmick, but as their second album proves, the Dresden Dolls are more then just white face paint and bowler hats.