Have you ever noticed how The Polyphonic Spree are engineering a career trajectory for themselves that resembles nothing more than a manic-depressive single mom from some Midwestern suburb? They arrive in the neighborhood in 2002 with a big batch o' home-baked cookies for everyone, The Beginning Stages Of... and a huuuge grin on their faces, and isn't it such a great day? The kind of day that makes you really happy to be alive, the kind of day that makes you want to sing to the birds and the trees? And everyone's all welcoming and stuff, and oh, aren't they the sweetest, and isn't that album great, but they all think that if they just, y'know, toned it down a little they wouldn't be so damned creepy.
So then they get dropped from 679, and oh well, got to soldier on, don't you? Life's like that, but if you just take some time to smell the flowers once every so often, you'll realize things aren't that bad at all. So they get some new clothes and release Together We're Heavy on Hollywood. Their neighbors all nod and smile, but they can't deny that it's all looking a little desperate. And it's really sad. All they ever wanted to do was make a few people happy. If only they could be a little less creepy.
And now it's 2007. They've been dropped from Hollywood, and presumably at some point in the last year, they cracked, and there was a huge gin-fueled meltdown where they slumped in the corner of their friend's kitchen and in great heaving sobs complained how nothing ever goes right for them, and what's wrong with wanting to be nice to people every once in a while, and they think they're getting fat, and nobody likes them and they're stupid and fat and ugly, and the neighbor did all they could and put them to bed with a glass of water.
What I'm trying to say is, The Polyphonic Spree are back, and they've gone way past creepy into fucking terrifying. Forget the robes -- now they're all dressed up in military fucking fatigues, fatigues with hearts and crosses sewn on, as if that makes them look jolly and friendly and not, y'know, Waco survivors.
They've signed on to TVT Records, and their first release on the label, The Fragile Army, is due to drop in June. I'd buy it, if I were you. If only so that Tim DeLaughter doesn't firebomb your home in a fit of righteous zeal. I'd look out for him. You seen pictures of him recently? He's got this look in his eyes, the look of a stone-dead killer. If you crossed him, he'd probably drive a pen through your eyeball in a split second.
The Fragile Army (or, The Final Document In A Slow And Harrowing Descent Into Utter Insanity):
