I cannot not talk about how Parasyte Woman’s album Homeless Information was a key musical piece for me this year. Honestly, if I don’t listen to this album once a week, I feel deprivation.
Together, Manuela’s voice, her unbelievably wide register and technique, and Protein’s talent for creating outer-worldly complex musical pieces collide and connect to make this very very very well-written-executed-produced album.
From Echockammer’s descript, and I can’t agree more
This is dream music, this is music for the depths of the dark night. PARASYTE WOMAN are three – a woman, a man, a creature in between. A hypnotically weaving coiling scaling voice beats its way through spooky synthies, hard honky-tonkesque guitars and driving drums and synthic beats. This record has many faces, layers overlap to create a killer syncretism of R´n´B and Vaudeville, Trip Hop and Opera, Witch House and Boogie, Dub and Pop. The wondrous lyrics telling surreal tales of girls in pyjamas and plants that dance, tumble off her tongue in a voice as refined as that of the great Grace Jones.
On with the music.
We begin our journey with the amazing Homeless Information, with its own unique musical construction, its infectious layers of rhythms and melodies. It fits so well with the collage aesthetic of the album. It can be digged in and separated but it’s never as beautiful as the big picture.
Private Motocross is /heavy/. It’s the first song I listened to by Parasyte Woman, having seen the video on Youtube and it will always hold a dear place in my heart. It’s so upbeat and playful and full of confidence and the repetition makes it so SO so SO addictive.
But the addiction, to me, truly lies with No More Cows. This song does THINGS to me. Protein totally worked his magic on this one, and Manu’s voice is mesmerizing and hypnotic and this song just makes me so happy. Every time I listen to it I’m flying. It’s softer than a caress yet you can feel the orange sun burn your face.
After that, a relatively (!!) clean version of Jimi Hendrix’ Voodoo Child – where, it seems, voice riffs replace guitar riffs with disconcerting ease – opens the way for a narrative thread that weaves itself around the spooky-boogie sound of the rest of the album.
In Girls in Pyjamas, Manu sings a bedtime story that lull you in a sweet Nightmare (No.1) deep in the Jungle (Night). The serpentine-sinuous-synthesizer of Hubbles Drift is like hopping in a time machine bringing you to un Paris d’antan (1919) très cauchemardesque.
The wake-up is hard. No more low murmurs in your ear. It’s a powerful repetitive plea that falls infinitely around you like multiple voices in your head. Doop the Group makes you realize you may not be exactly at the same place you were before listening to this album, right?
Better listen to it again, then.