Black Kids: It’s Not Me, It’s You

Am I going deaf, or is something seriously wrong with you people?

July’s blog-darling fad band is Black Kids, a Florida quintet who’ve gone from zeros to the second coming of indie in the span of about six months. And I call bullshit.

Partie Traumatic is polished synth-pop hipster masturbation and nothing more. The bloggy kingmakers calling this kaleidoscope of regurgitation one of the “albums of the year” need to have their fucking heads examined. They also need to start realizing that they’re exactly what makes this entire internet-hype experience such a minefield. This is the kind of repugnant nonsense Heidi Montag is blasting each day as she drives ever so slowly down Robertson, giggling for the long-lens parasites.

This shit has all been done before, and better. Every single catchy moment on Partie Traumatic is directly reminiscent of something else mixed with something else. Oh, did you hear? It’s The Cure meets Arcade Fire! Sure, singer Reggie Youngblood does a decent Robert Smith impression, but that doesn’t mean the song’s any good. Besides, we already have a Robert Smith. One’s enough.

There are some halfway entertaining moments. The singalong chants of I Wanna Be Your Limousine are pretty interesting, but again, it reeks of repetition. And everything I hate about I’m Making Eyes At You is exactly what I kinda like about it: it’s a shameless reanimation of some of the worst musical fads of the 80’s. A novelty. Nothing more.

“Call the ghost in your underwear?” C’mon. I’ve about had it with this media darling shit. Seriously, I could see the rationale behind plugging your ears and sucking Frances Bean’s taint if she ever put a record out. Not that I’d do that, but at least there’d be some basis of legacy behind the adulation. These kids don’t have any legacy to protect beyond coming from the same place as Fred Durst. They don’t even do justice to their name, which could be awesome but winds up being a bad joke. Hell, only two of the “kids” are black, and the other three are about as Anglo-alabaster as they come.

If you’re looking for mass-consumption cool guy party jams, it’s got the BPMs to dance to, but listening to two songs in a row invokes a restless urge to smash the source of this whorish crying. Here’s Love Me Already:

If you were able to get through it, I applaud you. And no, that wasn’t AFI. Now imagine listening to that song ten times. That’s Partie Traumatic for you. It’s kitsch piggyback music, and it’s entirely derivative. Been there, done that. Just go find the originals, they’re a hell of a lot better, and respectable authenticity is much less of an issue.

Black Kids will be has-beens before the end of the year, and that’s for the best. These kids should just go have fun and play some shows. They’re not ready to rock anybody’s world just yet.

Partie Traumatic
July 22, 2008
Columbia Records

1. Hit The Heartbrakes
2. Partie Traumatic
3. Listen To Your Body Tonight
4. Hurricane Jane
5. I’m Making Eyes At You
6. I’ve Underestimated My Charm (Again)
7. I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You    
8. Love Me Already
9. I Wanna Be Your Limousine    
10. Look At Me (When I Rock Wichoo)