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SLEEPING IN THE AVIARY: Expensive Vomit In A Cheap Hotel [Science Of Sound]

Long before there was a small army of people on Craigslist available at your fingertips for a potential midnight kiss (or at least a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of Two Buck Chuck), you had to work things out for yourself. Or, as in the case of Sleeping In The Aviary, you could let your interpersonal relationship fester like that last eye-watering bag of half-eaten pork tenderloin and cat-box scrapings that makes it so difficult to even raise the lid of the garbage can. That’s when the only options left in life seem to involve kicking down a door and breaking your big toe, throwing the iron through the front window onto the lawn and scaring the hell out of the neighbor’s cat, or running head-first into the medicine cabinet and writing your goodbye note in blood on the cracked mirror. As neurotically intense as the bad-dream vibe of Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, the 11 ultra-lo-fi songs on SITA’s second album offer an agonizing litany of painful blind dates, awkward encounters and domestic partners as mismatched as the last two socks left in your bureau drawer. Expensive Vomit In A Cheap Hotel is the unshaven, drug-addled, untold misery those good-looking, blissful-idiot couples who’ve found their perfect soulmates on eHarmony have never even dreamed about. With a disturbed, ranting style that points out the barely controlled rage common to the early work of fellow Minnesota/ Wisconsin natives Bob Dylan and Violent Femmes, the members of Sleeping In The Aviary are as obsessed here with love gone bad as notoriously demented cartoonist Robert Crumb under a heavy deadline, with a houseful of screaming kids and a car in the driveway with a dead battery. [www.scienceofsound.com]

—Jud Cost

2 replies on “SLEEPING IN THE AVIARY: Expensive Vomit In A Cheap Hotel [Science Of Sound]”

i found the review to be scintillating. for the record, SITA is psychotic (not “neurotic”) and frenetic (not “ranting style that points out the barely controlled rage”). just my two cents.

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