Classic-rock magpies, brothers Michael and Brian D’Addario construct a fabulously campy pastiche from the spangled castoffs of the 1970s.
The Lemon Twigs, the project of brothers Michael and Brian D’Addario, are a classic-rock vampire act. Cloaked in the sequins and skin-tight leather of the axe-wielding ’70s, their latest album plays like a bit: Think of them as the Zoomer version of the Darkness in the way they gleefully joust with rock’s macho past. An over-the-top and occasionally frustrating listen, Songs for the General Public is a gaudy, tongue-in-cheek patchwork.
The D’Addario brothers are meticulous songwriters who channel inspiration from Ziggy Stardust and Marc Bolan; fussy, baroque and extremely complicated, their music glows beneath black lights and is drenched in sexuality. On their third album, the arrangements have become more refined and almost neurotically precise. Where their last record was a concept album about a monkey raised by humans, the new one is more thematically free-associative, populated by tough guys, nutty poets, and the occasional leather fiend. On the tightly conceived “Hell on Wheels,” black Cadillac Eldorados blaze through the streets as competing strings and jangly piano keys balloon to Michelin Man proportions. The D’Addario brothers sound like they’re running through a revolving door, breathlessly switching between Bob Dylan and Mick Jagger impersonations as they take each lap.
On Songs for the General Public, songs constantly go in unexpected, devilish directions. Take “Moon,” which starts with a harmonica solo and somehow transitions into full Elton John balladry by the song’s midpoint. The D’Addarios compare the moon to a giant toenail in the sky and rhyme “We resent people with lives” with “We resent tall guys.” The song is stuffed with ideas, almost to a fault. While such excess can be exhilarating, it’s sometimes hard to parse exactly who the Lemon Twigs are and what they really want to say. They slingshot their way through so many different influences, it can feel like they aren’t fully grounded.
What is crucial is that they do everything with levity. Just take a song like the operatic “Fight,” which infuses anthemic elements of Bruce Springsteen and Queen into a tight three-minute sprint while also making time to lament the woes of a middle aged man who wants to feel “beautiful again,” and really isn’t in a great spot with his old lady. Or perhaps “Ashamed,” an oddly touching ballad about a “brother and sister who make it with each other,” speckled with acoustic guitars and delicate strings that evoke the warmth of the Velvet Underground.
More often than not, listening to Songs for the General Public feels like watching the D’Addario brothers throw old ’45s at a brick wall to see what sticks, snickering all the while. They want you to have a good time, and they sound tighter than ever; they just need to figure out how to control the Frankenstein that they’ve made.
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