The Residents Albums (43)
What The Critics Say
The Bunny Boy is the newest project from the Residents, but it's much more than just an album. The album was inspired by the Bunny Boy Internet series (available at residents.com), which will also extend into the tour. Here's the supposed story: a friend of the Residents' has had his brother go missing, apparently on the island of Patmos in Greece. This friend ("Bunny") is a (mostly) computer illiterate man who spends most of his time in his "secret room." He's got some clues: postcards from Patmos and the contents of his brother Harvey's computer. From the secret room, he posts video messages (the webisodes) on the Internets hoping that people will help him find his Armageddon-obsessed brother (who went to Patmos because that's where St. John supposedly received the Book of Revelations). But the story became more than just clues on the website. Bunny (seemingly portrayed by the Singing Resident) gives out an e-mail address asking for help. In the weeks since, Bunny has been responding to individual e-mails giving further clues, or not, as the case may be. Bunny seems disturbed and confused, but is it just over his missing brother? Is Harvey really missing? Is Harvey dead? Is Bunny crazy? Is Bunny Harvey!?!?! There are certainly myriad clues, but which ones unlock the mystery? It's a brilliant multimedia story line. Musically, this is a more stripped-down effort than their recent offerings. Songs are short, and they're more "rock" than the last few albums, although they seem to get more electronic as the story progresses (a symptom of Bunny's deteriorating mental condition?). Toward the end, they employ some cool programming and almost techno beats. The album doesn't advance the story line too much, although there appear to be further clues in the sparse lyrics and photos in the booklet. And as opposed to the last several releases, The Bunny Boy features the Singing Resident almost exclusively on vocals (and mostly singing, too; not the screaming of old). But here's the part that really has the Residents community buzzing: many of the objects in Bunny's secret room seem strongly connected to Residents history/lore. Many of the direct questions asked of Bunny are given answers known to coincide with views already offered by the Residents themselves (like "What's your favorite Residents album?"). The addresses listed on the postcards are all previous locations of the Residents' home/studio or Ralph Records. Bunny states that he wanted to be a butcher, then in an e-mail reply states that one of the Residents or one of the Residents' fathers was a butcher. After the Demons Dance Alone tour (2003), the Residents stated they were taking a few weeks vacation...in PATMOS! There have already been what seem to be autobiographical details released in the Kettles of Fish package and the re-released Mole Trilogy liner notes, as well as in the Demons Dance Alone live show and the stories from River of Crime. Is that what The Bunny Boy is really about? Is the actual character of Bunny really the Singing Resident?!?! The interactive part of this concept is supposed to expand into other media as the story progresses, and Bunny reports that the Residents have asked him to accompany them on the tour (an offer he eventually accepted). Are they really providing clues to their identities, or are they just messing with all of us? Ah, such is the beauty of the Residents. The most mysterious avant-garde rock group ever remains almost as mysterious as when it appeared more than 35 years ago. Other albums will surely be more lauded in the Residents' canon, but The Bunny Boy may well be their crowning conceptual achievement (and that's no small statement). It will be fascinating to see where this all leads. ~ Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The Residents have firmly embraced the concept album for many years now. But recently, projects like Tweedles and especially The River of Crime have seen them move towards more straightforward storytelling. Well, straightforward for the Residents at least. For The Voice of Midnight, they turn their attention towards Prussian author E.T.A. Hoffmann, whose dark and creepy stories would seem to be right up the Residents' dark and creepy alley. Specifically, they take up Hoffmann's short story "The Sandman," where the young protagonist is haunted by terrible childhood memories that cloud his adult life and ultimately cause his downfall. Although the Residents transplant the story to a more contemporary setting, they stick very closely to the original story line. It's presented differently, but all the basic plot elements are the same (except for a wonderful Resident-ial twist at the end). Musically, it sounds like no one but the Residents, with the addition of strings and the screaming guitar of Residents collaborator Nolan Cook. There aren't songs per se, the main characters of Nate and Claire speak their roles; Nate only occasionally breaks into verse, and then very briefly. Both voices sound young and new to Residents recordings. The Sandman himself has a comparatively small vocal contribution and always "sings" his part. It's clearly the voice of the "Singing Resident," but longtime fans might lament his diminished role. Some nice musical touches are the allusions to Bernard Herrman's Psycho in the first track and to a Stephen Foster tune in "True Love." Part of "The Telescope" sounds almost like a dance track. The rest is suitably dark and menacing. There's even a nice eyeball tie-in with the story. This probably isn't the best place to start if you're just discovering the Residents but it's certainly interesting for fans as they head down this new path. ~ Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide
'The River of Crime: Episodes 1-5 - Instrumental Soundtrack'
Release Date 10/17/2006
Tracks 5
Label Cordless
See Album Tracklist and Review
'The River of Crime: Episodes 1-5'
Release Date 10/17/2006
Tracks 10
Label Cordless
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Throughout their career, the Residents have been storytellers. Many of their releases (if not most) have been concept albums with varying degrees of straight (or not so straight) narrative storyline. The River of Crime takes that a step further, offering what are basically a connected series of radio plays. They're stories from an unnamed narrator whose early childhood obsession with crime stories seems to attract crimes to him (although he maintains he is NOT a criminal, kind of like Tweedles). Each episode starts with an observation or historical background on some subject fascinating to the narrator (the electric chair, alligators in the sewer, perverse child molesters) before the subject matter eventually manifests itself somehow in the narrator's life: the only woman in Louisiana to die in the electric chair lived next door to his grandmother; one of his mother's friends was (presumably) fed to an alligator and the child sadist episode has the narrator himself being accused of molestation. Each episode is told by the narrator as remembrance, but each character (including the narrator as a younger man or child) has their own voice and there's something of a Greek Chorus that furthers the story periodically (a device used by the Residents before). Of course, the 'singing Resident' is the narrator, and the episodes take place in Louisiana (where the Residents are originally from), so is there an autobiographical element to these stories? Since it's the Residents, we'll almost certainly never know for sure (although they've dropped other personal tidbits from Louisiana in recent works like Demons Dance Alone DVD). The episodes vary in creepiness, but the Residents' very dark sense of humor is never far away. The music sets the scenes perfectly (especially the 'Termites' theme), but the second disc of instrumental versions demonstrates that the music works equally well by itself. There is the 'standard' Residents instrumentation, but there are also ambitious orchestral passages (the Film Orchestra of Bucharest appeared on the almost simultaneous release of Tweedles and probably appear here uncredited). Given their penchant for telling twisted stories, it's a bit surprising that the Residents took more than 35 years to eventually find their way to this particular storytelling format, but once again, they show that they're brilliant and unique in nearly every artistic medium. ~ Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Animal Lover and Demons Dance Alone seemed to show something of a new direction for the Residents: a comparative vulnerability when measured against the majority of their output. If you were expecting them to continue down that path, think again. Tweedles! is a disturbing look into the psyche of a clown wannabe and emotional vampire who uses sex to ruin the lives of others while somehow feeding his twisted needs and desires. On one hand, Tweedles (the clown) is utterly detached from his actions, matter-of-factly describing the shattered lives left in his wake and seeming to derive pleasure from it. On the other hand, he seems to understand that society sees him as evil, even if he doesn't quite feel that way himself. The songs and narrative explore this conflict. Thematically, Tweedles! looks back to the outright carnality of God in Three Persons, except it's at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum from the "Holy Kiss of Flesh". Musically, Tweedles! continues with the addition of acoustic instruments that were reintroduced on Animal Lover, with some really nice piano on the first couple tracks (of course, there are plenty of creepy synths and electronics throughout). Some of the songs feature the Film Orchestra of Budapest, adding an entirely new element to the Residents' sound. "Mark of the Male" (nice in-joke) makes use of some slamming beats and metallic guitars, and weaves the sound of the orchestra in and out. As usual, the songs seem deceptively simple on the surface, but the arrangements and orchestrations really show off the Residents' musical skills in surprisingly varied settings ("Susie Smiles" even has a bluesy element). Tweedles! is the Residents at their darkest and most disturbing, but is also one of their most rewarding albums from a purely musical standpoint. If you didn't already think clowns are creeepy, you will after listening to this. ~ Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
It was with this album that the Residents perfected, for one brief moment, the dark, mysterious twisted pop song that raised their profile in the experimental music scene and college radio world. The songs contained here (a combination of two EPs of earlier that year, Duck Stab and Buster and Glen) are short, the lyrics obscure but precise, the analog synth sounds masterful. Like Brian Eno, the Residents' lyrics were more about the sound of the words than the meaning, and what is here on Duck Stab is in the tradition of such absurdists as Odgen Nash or Lewis Carroll ("An oily old egg with a red peg leg/Thought a porcupine was his daughter" goes the hillbilly singer on "The Laughing Song"). The music varies from romantic (swirling, muddy synths on "Blue Rosebuds") and lyrical ("Semolina") to frightening and ambiguous ("Hello Skinny," one of the group's best songs), while stopping to twist the surf genre ("Weight Lifting Lulu," which sounds like the Ventures under heavy flu medication) and R&B ("The Booker Tease" -- get it?). The group could have followed in this vein rather successfully, that they didn't for much longer is testiment to their dogged devotion to experimentation at all costs. Released on CD with four (rather pointless) adaptations of nursery rhymes called "Goosebump," originally the b-side of Diskomo. The re-release removes them. ~ Ted Mills, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The reigning kings of the concept album are back with Animal Lover, another very dense though not completely impenetrable offering from the Residents. They seem to be continuing with the themes of mortality that surfaced in Demons Dance Alone, but this time viewed through the observations and relationships between humans and animals. Each song is accompanied by a written text (in addition to the lyrics), that sketches the scene and characters of the song. There seems to be an overall structure to the work as a whole because groups of songs are separated from each other by brief instrumentals. There's a general malaise permeating Animal Lover, but each of the "sets" of songs presents its own moods and emotions (one set is more menacing and confrontational, one set very sad and sympathetic, etc.). As has been the case for decades now, the Residents have a knack for exposing the dark underbelly of the human condition, but this time it's tempered with some surprisingly empathetic moments. "Inner Space" deals with a woman watching her father die in a hospital (the story explained through the eyes of a mouse, but sung by the daughter) and "The Cat" seems to be about a mother and son and their changed relationship both to each other and the family cat following the son's absence, perhaps due to a war. There's alot more going on in these songs and the way they're arranged, but it will take multiple listens to begin to decode it. Musically, they've added some very organic sounds to their creepy synth stylings, adding lots of acoustic bass, harmonica and violin to the processed sounds of electric guitar and keyboards. There's also a fairly extensive use of chimes, gongs, and gamelan. The "singing Resident" has a diminished role as they utilize a broader palette of voices, including a couple excellent performances by Molley Harvey. There is also an additional disc included, where they take various elements from the album proper and come up with something akin to a dance remix disc, but bear in mind what that could mean given that it's a Residents project. It's really quite amazing how they continue to turn out intelligent, thought-provoking and thoroughly original material time and time again. As with any Residents album or project, it sure as hell won't appeal to all tastes, but close attention given by open-minded listeners will be rewarded. There is no one out there like them. ~ Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide
'The King & Eye: RMX'
Release Date 5/11/2004
Tracks 15
Label Euro Ralph
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
The prolific experimental pop collective the Dirty Projectors return with Slaves' Graves & Ballads, their third album in a year. Originally, the album was released as two EPs early in 2004, but despite the high-concept nature of each of the EPs, all of the songs fit together well, making the album cohesive as well as diverse. The first half of Slaves' Graves & Ballads features Dave Longstreth backed by a ten-piece chamber group he founded called the Orchestral Society for the Preservation of the Orchestra. While this could seem pretentious coming from many other artists, the sense of drama the chamber group brings to Longstreth's distinctive crooning and cryptic lyrics ("the way a logo is different from an icon") actually makes it more immediate than some of the Dirty Projectors' other music. The combination of the sweeping strings, woodwinds, and brass with Longstreth's small, keening voice throws each element into even sharper contrast. The mix of majesty and intimacy in songs like the oddly alert, anticipatory "On the Beach" and "Slaves' Graves" may be theatrical, but it's distinctly emotional too; "(Throw On) The Hazard Lights" and "Hazard Lights (Reprise)" recall the primitive grandeur of The Glow, Pt. 2-era Microphones, with even more fraying around the edges. As with all Dirty Projectors music, things feel like they're on the edge of collapse. Acoustic guitars waver between delicate plucking and atonal strumming, woodwinds recorded far into the red take on feedback-like qualities, percussion punctuates the songs at unexpected moments, and Longstreth's often-garbled warbling can tend to grate. Still, the orchestral arrangements on Slaves' Graves feel like a natural resting place for the Dirty Projectors' lyrical and musical voice. The second half of Slaves' Graves & Ballads takes a very different tack, stripping the arrangements down to mostly just Longstreth's voice and guitar, with the odd bit of playful multi-tracking here and there (which works especially well on the lovely pop of "Because Your Light Is Turning Green"). This approach isn't as immediately striking as Longstreth's earlier orchestral experiments, but it does highlight the strangely soulful, timeless feel of his melodies, especially on "A Labor More Restful," "Ladies, You Have Exiled Me," and "Obscure Wisdom" -- a song title that sums up Longstreth's aesthetic well. The Dirty Projectors are still something of an acquired taste, but Slaves' Graves & Ballads is proof enough that Longstreth's twists and turns are worth following. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Not that the Residents' discography is that easy to sort through in the first place, but here's a release where things become particularly confusing. Back in 1971, they recorded an album (actually, before they were officially the Residents) and sent it anonymously and unsolicited to Harve Halverstadt at Atlantic Records based on his association with noted musical outsider Captain Beefheart. Of course, the tape was rejected and returned to the band, care of "Residents, 20 Sycamore St., San Francisco," thus giving the band their famously anonymous moniker. But despite the future "success" of the Residents, the album remained unreleased. Fast forward 30-plus years to a time when the Residents were not only courting a newfound sense of accessibility with works like Demons Dance Alone and Wormwood, but they also seemed to be pondering their own mortality and ultimate place as artists, as evidenced by the Kettles of Fish live retrospective and a willingness to share actual personal details both there and in the Demons Dance Alone tour (while still maintaining anonymity, of course). In the midst of this, apparently the Residents decided to revisit the Warner Brothers Album, as it came to be called. But, when you're the Residents, a straight issuing of the original album seems tremendously uninspired, so in 2003, they took the original tracks and made a "dance mix" of the entire album. Now, anyone who has heard early Residents' material realizes that they were about as far from a dance band as any musical ensemble in the history of the world at that point. Which makes this remix all the more amazing in that they were able to take tapes that surely would be deemed completely unlistenable by most everyone, and craft a fun, accessible "dance" album out of them. Yes, many of the sounds are very strange, and often unplaceable. Yes, you hear the singing resident, sounding much as he has throughout their career, along with bleating, out-of-tune saxophones and deranged, near-yodeled vocals. But they somehow take these often-abrasive sounds and construct melodies and song forms that almost certainly weren't there in the first place. Or were they? That's part of the fun: you hear sound elements like string ensembles and bits off pop records that had to have been "sampled" (remember, this is 1971) along with other sounds/noises that are impossible to place, but one never knows whether the sound was tweaked and treated in 1971, or in 2003 (snatches of the Beatles and the I Love Lucy theme also appear in the murk). Then there are little details like the fact that the clapped-out rhythm that accompanies "A Merican Fag" sounds suspiciously like the Village People's "we want you, we want you" rhythm from "In the Navy," although "In the Navy" didn't appear until 1979. And how they manage to take the utterly inept sax playing of "Christmas Morning Photo," marry it to galloping beats of "Maggie's Farm," and make it catchy is anyone's guess. Such is the genius and mystery of the Residents. Very strange, very fun, and quite danceable, WB:RMX is a must-hear for fans. ~ Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide
