Review Summary: That's not an Amanda Palmer album. THAT'S an Amanda Palmer album...
It's one thing to have an appreciation and support for your work as an artist outside of your native land, but the cult following that has amassed for Amanda Palmer within Australia is nothing short of fucking ridiculous. From performing at sleazy burlesque clubs with The Dresden Dolls to headlining solo shows in Sydney's iconic Opera House, Palmer's unique, quirky cabaret stylings have won Australia's affections time and time again – with numbers only increasing with every visit. So why dedicate an entire album to Australia? Why on earth not?
Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under is a fitting tribute to her fervent and endlessly supportive fans in this part of the world – personal and particularly heartfelt, with just the right dose of crazy to remind you just who you're dealing with.
Naturally, Palmer has the ability to mix in her kitschy style of humour with quite a few tracks on
...Goes Down Under. After all, it'd be un-Australian
not to have a bit of a laugh, right? The Peaches-esque ode to all things vaginal, “Map of Tasmania,” is a perfect example of the kind of mischief Palmer can get up to with a ukulele, drum machine and some naughty lines about pride in one's pubic hair: “I say grow that shit like a jungle/Give 'em something strong to hold onto.” Girl power. Meanwhile, a live cut entitled “Vegemite (The Black Death)” is delivered with the perfect blend of melodrama and comedy – it's about having a lover who is practically perfect in every way, aside from the fact that they enjoy the famous Australian condiment. “It tastes like sadness!” she cries as her audience roars with laughter. “It tastes like batteries! It tastes like asses!” Clearly, she's willing to embrace local culture only to a certain degree – but as long as there's a good song in it, we're not in much of a position to complain.
Some new songs fall significantly short of the mark – the tortured “Missed Me” pastiche “Doctor Oz” comes to mind – but if you're going to hear one new AFP track, it's got to be “On An Unknown Beach.” The song is simplistic and serene, its sparse piano bringing Palmer's breathy, shivering vocals to the forefront as she describes being “a pale intruder on an unknown beach.” The song swirls and sways around its progressions, to the point of total mesmerization – each little detail washes over you with each listen. Whether you interpret it as being commentary on visiting Australia for the first time, or simply being lost in the world, the song ranks as one of Amanda's finest works of recent years.
Also of note is “New Zealand,” the song written in twenty minutes by Palmer backstage while on tour in...you guessed it, New Zealand. It's good-humoured, as Palmer sings about “Twittering the scenery” and “making love to hot local boys,” but it's also somewhat bittersweet when you take in the lyrical context. Palmer is exhausted, at the end of a world tour and having personal troubles that aren't exactly being assisted by the wear-and-tear of life on the road. In spite of all of this, she's still thrown together a sweet major-chord jaunt around her trusty old uke – and her audience laugh along with her, never at her. It's moments like this in which one appreciates exactly why the live cuts are such worthy inclusions – after all, it's in the flesh and with other people in which Palmer and her music truly comes to life.
Elsewhere, Amanda duets with Australian two-piece The Jane Austen Argument on a version of their beautiful “Bad Wine and Lemon Cake;” while an on-the-fly take on “A Formidable Marinade” with Mikelangelo (he of the The Black Sea Gentlemen) is easily one of the more outstanding cuts from the record. It's all finished up in a strangely beautiful manner – perhaps in a way only Palmer herself can truly do best – with a stunning rendition of the Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds classic “The Ship Song.” Ringing out every last syllable as if it were the last song she ever may sing, it's an arresting performance that brings forward the power of Cave's lyrics as they are stripped to their bones. It doesn't better the original, but then again you can't particularly suspect that Palmer was intending to. It is her version, and she wears it with pride.
If you've never been sold on Amanda Palmer's shtick before now, be warned that next to nothing here will change your mind on that. With that said, that's not the point of
Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under. It's a slapdash compilation made for her fans and her fans alone – one which is almost certain to be embraced for all its imperfections and joyful rawness. Get amongst it or get out.
