SPUN: Johnny Hollow

By Jordyn Marcellus

Dirty Hands is, in short, music for 14-year-old fat girls with an un-ironic love of black eye makeup. It’s almost unfair to pick on the album; it’s meant for a very specific type of person. This person–the kind who sacrifices a little sprig of mint to the Earth Mother every equinox–would definitely dig on the album’s cello-led electronica-industrial-fusion. For people who aren’t followers of the ancient, craven, pagan gods, Dirty Hands is done dirt cheap.

Musically, the album doesn’t stray far from the goth stereotypes. In track “This Hollow World,” singer Janine White dully intones, “This hollow world is holding on to me/My soul, my mind is held magnetically.” This is as lyrically complex as it’s going to get, folks. Not since Evanescence has there been an attempt by such a faux-goth band to appeal to such a wide market. Needless to say, it’s a massive failure. The strings are spooky and dark and the industrial beats are out of a Marilyn Manson b-side. Nothing sounds truly unique to the group, slavering fans of the genre will be all over this like maggots over a dark and spooky corpse.

Dirty Hands is a clever album insofar as it feels like a cash-in attempt to attract the previously mentioned oh-so unique and downtrodden mall goths you’d typically find cavorting in the food court in Chinook, ironically riding the carousel. If bands like Lacuna Coil or HIM appeal to your dark vampiric soul, then Dirty Hands will definitely suck the money from your wallet. Otherwise, it’ll just suck.

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