Travis Parno
11/05/08, 05:08 PM
The Stiletto Formal - ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!
Record Label: Eyeball Records
Release Date: October 21, 2008
It’s been a little over two years since The Stiletto Formal, one of the most promising young bands in Eyeball Records’ fleet of talent, released their second EP, This is My Boomstick. Although the interim was punctuated with the digital re-release of 2005's Masochism in the Place of Romance EP, it certainly seems fair to label the band’s first full-length as “highly anticipated.” It’s equally fair to say that ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta! holds up its end of the bargain. The album slinks and slides through a city of dark post-rock and sultry grooves, rocketing from thumping percussion and frenzied cello to sweat-sticky blues. The moody vibes are anchored by vocalist Kyle Howard’s signature pipes which seem to carry a heavy burden, whether they’re dribbling through intimate strings or vaulting over raging guitars.
It’s at this point that I must unfortunately digress.
This is sort of a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t situation. If I come right out and say that my goal going into this review was to refrain from mentioning At the Drive-In, The Mars Volta, and/or Cedric Bixler, then I’ve already screwed the pooch. If I write 500 words or so without mentioning any of the above (again), then I’m doing a disservice to the debates of similarity, or even derivation, that seem to surround The Stiletto Formal. In the name of some sort of crippled compromise, I’ll only say this: despite any semblance of likeness that may exist, both Bixler and Howard are outstanding vocalists and their music flourishes because of their fantastic abilities (diplomatic enough for you?). If your pulse is rapidly rising and you’re yearning to shout “but ATDI is teh bestzorz,” just breathe, and head to Julia’s review (http://www.absolutepunk.net/showthread.php?t=206894) of This is My Boomstick. She handled the issue much better than I ever could.
Whew.
As is the case with any band that wows live audiences, there was some question as to whether or not The Stiletto Formal’s energy could be distilled down into a studio album. Thank goodness for the slick production of Cory Spotts (Greeley Estates, Job for a Cowboy) and Darrell Thorp (Beck, Outkast, Radiohead). Concerns are immediately assuaged with the opener, “We Are All Muckrakers,” as Sunny Davis’ cello skitters through a progression and Howard growls “Yeah you and I are just charlatans” over and over again. It’s full speed ahead from here. From the rapid-fire delivery of “Nightcap at the Sante Fe” to the brilliant syncopation in the second half of the title track to the violent dissonance of “Back Alley Contortionist,” the ferocity doesn’t let up.
Even where the album could fail, it doesn’t. After three blistering tunes, the band slows things down with “Bearskin Rugs of the Future.” There’s no loss of intensity, though, as deliberate, torrid soul takes its place under the hot spotlights. Similarly, the insertion of hip-hop-infused “Sleeping Our Way to the Top (featuring MURS)” somehow avoids sounding random. Maybe it’s Howard’s mournful choruses or the sexually depraved story of a fallen soul that oozes from MURS’ lyrical acrobatics. Or maybe the song simply falls in line with the general tenor, another player in the album’s shadowy variety act.
Yeah, there are times when the show tires a bit and the spit-fire vocals falter (the electronic mess that interrupts “6 P.M. Your Time”). And at certain points, it’s hard to tell where the direction went. Sure, the saxophone is unique touch in “Naked Brunch,” the album’s closer, but do we really need ten minutes of jazz ramblings? We’re here to drink deep of Howard’s delirious vocal performance, so two of his brief breakdowns aren’t quite enough to tide us over through the insipid, lounge-y trills.
Fortunately, the short-lived glaring misses don’t detract too much from ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!’s overall sleek darkness. Post-rock has rarely looked so good, dressed up as it is in The Stiletto Formal’s urban gloom ‘n sexy attitude. Throw in your earbuds, head to the spaces between the streetlights, and let the scene unfold.
…And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, At the Drive-In, The Mars Volta (Yeah, yeah, I know. The RIYL doesn’t count…)
Official Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/thestilettoformal) | Official Website (http://www.eyeballrecords.com/artist/thestilettoformal)
1. We Are All Muckrakers
2. Nightcap at the Sante Fe
3. 6 P.M. Your Time
4. Bearskin Rugs of the Future
5. ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!
6. Sleeping Our Way to the Top (featuring MURS)
7. Back Alley Contortionist
8. 50 ccs of Anything Potent
9. Desaparada
10. Naked Brunch
Record Label: Eyeball Records
Release Date: October 21, 2008
It’s been a little over two years since The Stiletto Formal, one of the most promising young bands in Eyeball Records’ fleet of talent, released their second EP, This is My Boomstick. Although the interim was punctuated with the digital re-release of 2005's Masochism in the Place of Romance EP, it certainly seems fair to label the band’s first full-length as “highly anticipated.” It’s equally fair to say that ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta! holds up its end of the bargain. The album slinks and slides through a city of dark post-rock and sultry grooves, rocketing from thumping percussion and frenzied cello to sweat-sticky blues. The moody vibes are anchored by vocalist Kyle Howard’s signature pipes which seem to carry a heavy burden, whether they’re dribbling through intimate strings or vaulting over raging guitars.
It’s at this point that I must unfortunately digress.
This is sort of a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t situation. If I come right out and say that my goal going into this review was to refrain from mentioning At the Drive-In, The Mars Volta, and/or Cedric Bixler, then I’ve already screwed the pooch. If I write 500 words or so without mentioning any of the above (again), then I’m doing a disservice to the debates of similarity, or even derivation, that seem to surround The Stiletto Formal. In the name of some sort of crippled compromise, I’ll only say this: despite any semblance of likeness that may exist, both Bixler and Howard are outstanding vocalists and their music flourishes because of their fantastic abilities (diplomatic enough for you?). If your pulse is rapidly rising and you’re yearning to shout “but ATDI is teh bestzorz,” just breathe, and head to Julia’s review (http://www.absolutepunk.net/showthread.php?t=206894) of This is My Boomstick. She handled the issue much better than I ever could.
Whew.
As is the case with any band that wows live audiences, there was some question as to whether or not The Stiletto Formal’s energy could be distilled down into a studio album. Thank goodness for the slick production of Cory Spotts (Greeley Estates, Job for a Cowboy) and Darrell Thorp (Beck, Outkast, Radiohead). Concerns are immediately assuaged with the opener, “We Are All Muckrakers,” as Sunny Davis’ cello skitters through a progression and Howard growls “Yeah you and I are just charlatans” over and over again. It’s full speed ahead from here. From the rapid-fire delivery of “Nightcap at the Sante Fe” to the brilliant syncopation in the second half of the title track to the violent dissonance of “Back Alley Contortionist,” the ferocity doesn’t let up.
Even where the album could fail, it doesn’t. After three blistering tunes, the band slows things down with “Bearskin Rugs of the Future.” There’s no loss of intensity, though, as deliberate, torrid soul takes its place under the hot spotlights. Similarly, the insertion of hip-hop-infused “Sleeping Our Way to the Top (featuring MURS)” somehow avoids sounding random. Maybe it’s Howard’s mournful choruses or the sexually depraved story of a fallen soul that oozes from MURS’ lyrical acrobatics. Or maybe the song simply falls in line with the general tenor, another player in the album’s shadowy variety act.
Yeah, there are times when the show tires a bit and the spit-fire vocals falter (the electronic mess that interrupts “6 P.M. Your Time”). And at certain points, it’s hard to tell where the direction went. Sure, the saxophone is unique touch in “Naked Brunch,” the album’s closer, but do we really need ten minutes of jazz ramblings? We’re here to drink deep of Howard’s delirious vocal performance, so two of his brief breakdowns aren’t quite enough to tide us over through the insipid, lounge-y trills.
Fortunately, the short-lived glaring misses don’t detract too much from ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!’s overall sleek darkness. Post-rock has rarely looked so good, dressed up as it is in The Stiletto Formal’s urban gloom ‘n sexy attitude. Throw in your earbuds, head to the spaces between the streetlights, and let the scene unfold.
…And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, At the Drive-In, The Mars Volta (Yeah, yeah, I know. The RIYL doesn’t count…)
Official Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/thestilettoformal) | Official Website (http://www.eyeballrecords.com/artist/thestilettoformal)
1. We Are All Muckrakers
2. Nightcap at the Sante Fe
3. 6 P.M. Your Time
4. Bearskin Rugs of the Future
5. ¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!¡Fiesta!
6. Sleeping Our Way to the Top (featuring MURS)
7. Back Alley Contortionist
8. 50 ccs of Anything Potent
9. Desaparada
10. Naked Brunch