Seattle Subsonic

“No, YOU Listen!” – Hungarian Suicide Songbook from Man Plus

May 15th, 2008

A quick refresher of the rules: The title must be said somewhat vehemently–emphasis on the ‘you’–while pointing your index finger at the tip of someone’s nose. Don’t say it if you’re not going to do it.

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So, I’ve been carrying around Hungarian Suicide Songbook, the sophomore release from Seattle’s Man Plus, for a few weeks now, hoping to find the time and inspiration to cough up a review of the album. I enjoy the emotional ramshackle-ness of the record, had seen them open up for Handsome Furs back at the end of April, and thought the band deserved at least some attention for a raucously fun and concurrently morose album. For some reason I had, and am having, trouble pinpointing their sound; and for a describer of music, that, my friends, is the quintessential frustration. From the 30,000 ft. level, I guess the music can be described as electro-pop-rock, but doing so would obviously omit many details. I could drop one plane down and say something like, “A turbulent exercise in sugary synthesizers and salty lyrics.” But, again, it doesn’t quite get the job done. Kudos to the band for stumping this listener.

So maybe I’ll just tell you what I hear and you can make your own genre-bending decisions; sort of a different slant on the title’s instruction (”No, seriously, you listen“). Take, for example, the omnipresent lyrics of lead vocalist Jared Mills, easily the driving force behind the dismal and tormented guise the band layers beneath their catchy pop hooks. Subjects range from the unappealing disposition of crack-slingin’ prostitutes, to the historic despair of Hooverville, to the innocuous nature of ghosts, all in some way relating to the miserable and downtrodden of the world. I hear vocal similarities to Richard Butler (Psychedelic Furs), George Michael (Wham!), and Isaac Brock. Quite the variation, if you ask me.

“Once in Awhile (Getting High Alone)” is my favorite track and one of the few featuring the guitar more prominently. The guitarist sets the tempo with a methodical rhythm chug, while Mills implores his friends to avoid the same narcotic mistakes he himself could not. The drums follow right along with a tight, staccato snare shimmy, while fluid keys float in and out of the background. The female vocals found throughout the record really mesh well on this track in particular.

“My Kind of People” is a classic quiet/loud/quiet sentimental two-and-a-half-minute single, utilizing a bubbly synthesizer and lamenting (read: praising) those who share in the personal grief we’ve all felt. Misery loves company after all. “Cycloponomia” is an impressively moody song on an album filled with catchy choruses, using a song structure less familiar than the rest of the cuts. Not all is gloom and doom, however. A touching duet chauffeurs “Mexican Moon”, while the key-man caresses his sound into a tearful yet loving syncopation. “How do you say goodnight to a lover?” the singers ask; the answer is simple: Close the book on a Mexican Moon. Duh.

In between their first record, We Had No Sex (2006), and Songbook, a lineup change seems to have sparked a creative shift in the band’s sound; so it’s understandable that the record comes off a bit chaotic and frenzied. And while it has the resonance of a young band starting over again (many of the songs fall into the customary pop-song formula of verse / chorus / verse / bridge / chorus), the potential for Man Plus to truly scar the local music scene is something we can all be optimistic about—even if they don’t have much optimism of their own.