Bitter Tea (CD)
Bitter Tea is the latest installment from the Brooklyn based Fiery Furnaces. The multi-instrumental brother and sister duo continue with their eclectic backdrop of experimental yet undeniably catchy melodies that set the stage perfectly for Eleanor's distinct vocals. Their diversity has garnered them a wide range of comparisons from The Who to The Band-meets-Syd Barrett... if that's any implication.
| Tracklisting | |
| Disk | 1 | |
| 1 | In My Little Thatched Hut |
| 2 | I'm In No Mood |
| 3 | Black-hearted Boy |
| 4 | Bitter Tea |
| 5 | Teach Me Sweetheart |
| 6 | Waiting to Know You |
| 7 | The Vietnamese Telephone Ministry |
| 8 | Oh Sweet Woods |
| 9 | Borneo |
| 10 | Police Sweater Blood Vow |
| 11 | Nevers |
| 12 | Benton Harbor Blues |
| 13 | Whistle Rhapsody? |
| 14 | Nevers Again |
| 15 | Benton Harbor Blues Again |
| Eddie Turner
- Atlanta, GA, US |
| How many albums do you have--200, 300? Don't most of them have the same stupid sounds recorded in the same stupid ways? "Bitter Tea" has all-new sounds that Matthew Friedberger made up on instruments that he created in the two hours you took for a nap! Listen to the first two songs and maybe "Benton Harbor Blues" and you'll get it, or you'll know that you won't get it. | |
| James Wood
- Tusket, , Canada |
| Matt Friedberger uncannily writes music for all senses, and his descriptive abilities rival any songwriter I can summon to memory. With a whimsical tickling of keys, Friedberger can inject any mood into a song. Take opener "In My Little Thatched Hut". The protagonist awaits a lover's return, and even though ugly noises and sluggish instrumentation dominate the mix, there's that pivotal moment where her thoughts drift to the end of the sourness and Matt hammers out the most uplifting chord sequence. These are the moments, the ebbs and flows, that make the Furnaces such a rewarding experience. It's not just cyclical pandering; it's a genuine world set to music and expressed in real-time. And yet, Bitter Tea falls short of my expectations. Even though the charm is intact throughout the album and the songwriting is ace from start to end, there's no continuity. Blueberry Boat unfolds as a series of children's tales, and Rehearsing My Choir gels as a linear narrative (as linear as plucking mementos from a time capsule), but Bitter Tea feels like a collection of unrelated (though superior) b-sides. Taken as individual songs, it's damn hard to fault this album. But then, calling it an album feels like a stretch, because the sound is so schizophrenic. Simply put, Bitter Tea feels like a failed identity search. It channels a Hollywood prom waltz ("Waiting to Know You"); a homage to Dylan, right down to disaffected vocals ("Police Sweater Blood Vow"); a dusty blues number that breaks momentarily to nod Animal Collective's first two albums ("Benton Harbour Blues"); et freakin' cetera. There are hints of Matt Friedberger in all these tracks, and I wouldn't part with any of them, but as a whole they lack a cohesion that rendered the predecessors untouchable. (I'm in the minority, Choir's my all-time favorite album.) The Fiery Furnaces are 3-dimensional experience, and so is Bitter Tea. If one of Matt's characters hears music playing, the song will express this. If a clock is ticking, it's in the mix. I really feel like I'm watching a DVD when I listen to albums like Rehearsing My Choir, because I can see the scenes so vividly in my mind's eye. Again, on that note, the Furnaces deliver again. Sadly, this time it's an independent film festival, not an epic masterpiece. | |
| Kara Insound
- New York, NY, United States |
| The latest from my personal favorite musically inclined kindred. Another completely original album, balancing out 'Rehearsing My Choir' with the so-called "granddaughter album." And appropriately dubbed, as a sort of innocence will always be present with the Friedbergers. Maybe because you can't help but think they're just a happy family. And they look really nice. But 'Bitter Tea' is no album of pure naivete. This album is the little girl who wore her yellow summer dress to church the day she learned about hell, and decided she kind of liked it. It's pop music, just fucked up. The kind of album you'd make if you ate too much LSD with your brother in your grandmother's basement. | |
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