Let's get this out of the way first, like always. Her Space Holiday is the name of Marc Bianchi's project. He recently left Tigerstyle in favor of Mush to release this, his third full-length. He played in a band that all you "screamo" kids adore, known as Indian Summer. The best way to describe him would be The Postal Service bunched into one person with a dash of hip hop aesthetic. He programs beats that rival Jimmy Tamborello(Postal Service/DNTEL/Figurine), has a vocal approach very similar to Ben Gibbard(Postal Service/Death Cab For Cutie/All Time Quarterback) and mixes the honesty of Gibbard's lyrics with the attitude of hip hop lyricists, making a non-P.C. version of Gibbard. Sometimes Ben just needs to stop being a pussy anyway.
The album starts off with drum programming that bounces back and forth every which way with orchestrated strings that pull you out of reality and prepare you for a ride of lush soundscapes. I thought it interesting that he started the CD off with an instrumental but in the end, it seems fitting. The second song, "Something To Do With My Hands," begins and you see the Postal Service comparison immediately. The huge difference here is, Mark is not writing lyrics to appease anyone but himself, which is evident in such lines as, "...and my thumbs inside your mouth. Suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints. So your boyfriend has no clue of how much I've been touching you." Not great lyrics, or good, by any stretch of the imagination but he comes across as the kind of guy who doesn't really give a fuck.
"Meet the Pressure" continues the onslaught of lyrics pertaining to "bangin' chicks." In this song Mark finds himself in defense mode with walls up all around. He sings about the music reviewers and their tendencies to be idiots and bash his records. So in turn, he bangs their girlfriends. Once again, his lyrics are a bit too much at times.
That's not to say he doesn't show he has degree in the Gibbard Approach. On songs such as "From South Carolina," he shows that he actually graduated Cum Laude. You might have actually found lyrics such as "Hope that my key fits. Hope that this lock clicks. 'Cause I'll find you standing there, with your dyed black hair. We'll put that old record on and dance to your favorite song. The one that I wish I made but would have never played," on his term paper.
As much as I criticized this in the end, it really isn't a bad record. Shit, it's a whole lot better than average. Just nothing that'll stick out in the end. Plus I can't give it a lower score in fear of my little girlfriend getting banged by Mark.
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