The point is that the feminine quality I inferred from Obert’s performance on Do You Feel at Home? had everything to do with the kid being crazy young at the time of the recording. The high tenor, the pinching cracks, the frailty of pushing beyond range and into a teeth-grating scream are all attributable to a boy of fifteen fervently searching for a voice that speaks as loudly to men as it does to the mirror.
Blis. rocks that same vocal urgency except I’m pretty sure these kids are already men. They’re bearded, at least and from Atlanta which doesn’t really say anything about age so much as it does about lack of familiarity with the personal history of the quartet but let’s just assume they’re old enough to buy alcohol in any one of the fifty states, whether they care to or not, and move on.
I mean, I guess you could call the vocal delivery on Starting Fires in My Parents House a kind of startlingly emotive, post-Kinsella urbanite war cry and your reference would be righter than mine because odds are there’s a whole lot more of the Mike, Nate and Tim Post-Post-Post Punk Urbana Unter Alles Show greasing the gears that spurned this rock and roll nugget than the sloppy seconds America had with Teenager and the Alcoholics.
But, man, I really like “My Other Car Is a Spaceship.”
That track doesn’t sound one bit like Blis.’ crystalline noodles, however (or vice versa). Nor does it share an ounce of impractical strength with the mathletic time signature shifts, laconic passageways or full-bore fucking roar placed so effortlessly in the mix as to rip the casual (if not cynical) listener from the sublime dismissal of “We’re REALLY still doing this emo fucking thing?” straight into “HOLY SHIT, DUDE!”
Actually, the more I listen to Blis., the less I want to think about Venus.
At least we had fun, right?
Starting Fires in My Parents House Tracklist:
1. Floating Somewhere High And Above
3. Stationary Life
4. You Can Tell A Lot