The Hundred in the Hands: This Desert EP

This band makes guilty pleasure music. The term “guilty pleasure” has a negative connotation for sure, but ain’t nothing negative here, folks. Listen, I’m not talking guilty pleasure like the Avril Lavigne songs I have hidden deep in the recesses of my iTunes or the fact that even my own wife doesn’t know that I’m an avid rollerblader. No, this is a much less sinister type of guilty pleasure. In short, the music from The Hundred in the Hands is just so dreamy, so lovely and cutesy, that I can’t help but to feel a bit dippy listening to it. Looky hear, if you feel threatened in the least when you listen to this EP, chances are that the smurfs, baby unicorns, and oatmeal make you a bit jumpy, as well. This is not to say that the record is without its share of edginess; most of the tunes are in the darker, minor keys and the lyrics are ripe with dejected longing. However, this is a duo that isn’t trying to hide from what they are at their essence: an astral, almost whimsical sounding band that wears their 80’s influences like a badge of honor. Indeed, we get handclaps that are so obviously made on a computer and Casioesque keys that are at times reminiscent of Men Without Hats, circa 1982. Even the drums that govern the EP’s second track, “Tom Tom” sound like they’ve been touched up with a little reverb, for chrissake. But don’t mistake this for criticism–just the opposite. If it works, it works, baby. And singer Eleanore Everdell’s vocals? Well, for lack of a better term, they are fucking adorable. I mean, my voice has a schoolboy crush on this chick’s voice that it just can’t shake. Breathy and hazy, then simply divine in her upper register, Everdell steals the spotlight away from the music, which is pretty damn impressive in its own right. Anyway, at 22 minutes, you won’t have much to lose by giving this a listen; it’ll be worth it.