You Say Party! We Say Die!
Lose All Time vs. Karen O and The Grates
Aug 28, 2007 Matthew McMain Martin
The second-easiest comparison in the music world, right after “sounds like Radiohead,” is the Karen O comparison. It seems that every time some irascible young thing screeches into a microphone, she’s referencing Karen O, often without even knowing it. A warning to up-and-coming female screamers may be that as soon as you open your mouth in a hideous howl, you’ll only be as good as homage.
Which isn’t fair, of course. Riot grrl Krista Loewen, head of the caterwauling dance-punk outfit You Say Party! We Say Die! is more than just another O rip-off. Karen is a case unto herself anyway—her uniqueness in dress, attitude, and manner elevates her above her comparability. Krista may scream the same, but aesthetically, she’s more similar to The Grates’ pogoing lead singer Patience Hodgson, both of those girls more fun-loving and upbeat than Karen. When Krista barks into the mic, she does so at least semi-comprehensibly, narrating the party scene while soundtracking it, lampooning the scenesters who support her. Karen O doesn’t sing about parties. She sings about…something.
Emo-tive Indie Kids
The only true comparison is the one that’s most overlooked for want of saving face, and that’s that indie kids are exponentially more emotive than brash anyday. Sure, both Karen and Krista can bleat all hellfire, but they shine the most when they clear their throats, pout, and just sing. Let’s not forget that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were made with “Maps,” a song that stands out not just because it stands out—tender and vulnerable amidst an album of f*ck-me feminist bravado—but because it's as poignant as a Calcuttan tot. And indie kids are nothing if not super-poignant, loving nothing more than to hyperbolize their sadness through melancholy song. While they appreciate the attitude of those other songs (and imagining they too could be as emasculating and selective as Ms. O), they really just wanted to hunker down and have a good cry with a lyric both endearing and vague enough to be objectively meaningless (“they don’t love you like I love you”).
Unsurprisingly, Krista, for all her snarly boy-bashing, just wants someone to cuddle too, and this is—yep—where she shines the best too, shed of attitude, making earnest requests for love or its nearest approximation.
Coexistence between the Divas
Really, both bands are fun to have around—when the party gets a little drunk and giggly for Yeah Yeah Yeahs, there’s You Say Party! We Say Die!, jackhammering along, in the festive spirit of their song titles’ deluge of exclamation points (“He!She!You!Me!They!We!Us!OK!”).
Lose All Time
As for the content of the album Lose All Time itself: the content of the album Lose All Time itself is as little changed as its makers' or recipients’ polygonal hairdos or scarves—the same thing slightly repackaged, its songs much like parties: bull-rushed into, attacked and subdued, then abandoned, entirely ephemeral and beautifully so. Just like their debut Hit the Floor!, Lose All Time is unneeded, just like another hangover is unneeded, but hey, if everyone—the chunky dance beats, punk riffs, and snarky lyrics—isoing to be there, why not just go? Besides, what else are you going to do, rifle through Myspace pages all evening? Come on.
Lose All Time
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