The Dresden Dolls

OK, guilty pleasure confession time. I really like The Dresden Dolls. I feel like they’re a little juvenile, and that maybe I am not supposed to take them seriously because I’m not a teenage girl with a self-mutilation issue.

But it’s just so refreshing to have an alternative to guitar rock that doesn’t involve some solitary white boy making clicking and bleeping noises with his laptop. It’s refreshing to hear music with melody, odd chords, and, good heavens, dynamics, something that amplified music has almost systematically obliterated over the last 50 years. They’re also very good musicians: the guy’s a pretty good drummer, but the girl is seriously amazing on piano, and she can really wail. (It also turns out that she’s the friend of a friend and we met her at a party; Terri thought so, I didn’t think it was the same Amanda, but the friend confirmed it a couple of weeks ago. It’s hard to tell with all the make-up in the album photos…).

Have a listen to Half Jack or procure yourself a copy of “Coin-Operated Boy” and decide for yourself. Maybe Brechtian punk cabaret is for you.

They also have a song about former local NPR talk-show host Christopher Lydon. How funny is that?


We took the popcorn and cranberry strings off the tree and saved them for the birds. I strung a few through the branches of the tree outside the kitchen window where Edie’s cat bed is, to give her some avian excitement. Seems like the squirrels beat the birds to it, though, and I don’t want to encourage them. Alas.