Hecuba’s debut EP, “SIR,” on Manimal Vinyl, is an incredibly self-conscious release that explores the inherent dissatisfaction of some relationships and reveals, that, sometimes, the thing that makes you an awful human being can also be your best attribute. The album, reminiscent of the Glass Candy style of female vocals with electronic, dancy beats and italo-disco style, recalls all of those tearful nights spent alone thinking of where you went wrong in your last relationship while your roommate is trying to quietly have sex on the bottom bunk.
I’m not going to go into the mythology that the duo’s name alludes to (that would be really, really long), but, suffice it to say that its Greek background offers a new understanding of the album’s tone, which is that of a woman gone mad in the midst of male hegemony. As Isabelle Albuquerque sings her precious, emotionally-sadomasochistic heart out, she brings us into her sexual world. The listener can sense the ambiguity expressed by her voice; for Albuquerque, a traditional loving relationship is virtually unattainable and, at the same time, almost undesirable. Underneath that, are Jon Beasley’s uncomfortable and awkward dubs, which add more depth to Albuquerque’s vocals.
The EP opens with the title track “Sir,” in which Isabelle sings to an anonymous tom cat about her emotional and sexual independence, immediately sets the sexually-challenged mood as the atmospheric dub leaves. Repeatedly, she boasts that she will not simply “roll over” and that she can “fly high” and “fly solo,” which seems to hint that masturbation makes his penis obsolete. But just as the castrated sir walks away with his head hung low, she calls out to him, “But that don’t mean I don’t love you!”
The album then sounds the whistle of a train, alerting the listener to avert his or her gaze, as it is about to make its way into a tunnel. (Hey, I know a good phallus when I see or, in this case, hear one.) The whistle is short lived, awkward, and almost tribal as the primal instincts take over for the next minute and a half to an anti-climactic, pathetically weakened choo-choo. Despite what seems disappointing, the track fades into purring as “Sir” offers some suspicious reassurances, as the woman inexplicably marvels at her fantasy becoming reality.
That’s only the first half of the 22 minute long EP, which, in my opinion, is worth its weight in iPods. What makes this album so good, aside from the obvious emotional and sexual confusion, is its eclectic nature, causing it to range from self-conscious dub dance tracks to ironic doo-wop. Though the sounds vary from track to track, the album is always danceable. That said, I don’t recommend that you dance with anyone to any of these songs. If I see it, I will look at you and your partner and make fart noises with my mouth, because you are precisely the kind of person that Hecuba realizes she doesn’t want to be by the final track of the album (a Lucky Dragons remix that illustrates the disgusting nature of normal people sex).
So, if you realize that your relationships have all failed or are going to fail because you are a defective human being, then this album is for you. The music sets you up, the lyrics knock you down, and the length gives you enough time to listen to the whole thing before you fall asleep in your own bed, alone.
Jack LaPorte