Electric Six,Bang Camaro
Ask anyone from Echo Park to Williamsburg. They'll tell you irony is a dead scene.
Which is why Electric Six is only partially insincere.
Bouncing between Tom Jones-y suaveness to a preening falsetto, singer Dick Valentine works himself into a perpetual lather as he croons about sundry oddball shit. The Detroit sextet's latest tunes are mostly some form of love song, like the Sir Walter Raleigh-esque gallantry of "Transatlantic Flight" or, in the case of "Graphic Designer," a fixation with the girl who spends her days in a cubicle playing with PhotoShop.
Valentine is the kind of self-aware ham who would grow tiresome if his band weren't such smart interpreters of Top 40 tropes. The band's latest disc, Flashy, is a power-pop-laden set as indebted to '80s new-wave synths as it is crunchy punk guitars, spritzed with robo-vocals, spaghetti Western horns and sax solos that would make Kenny G a hater. And if he really likes the crowd, ol' Dick might drop to the floor and give you 20 push-ups.
The Polyphonic Spree-sized arena rock outfit Bang Camaro opens.
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