Audio By Carbonatix
It would be easy to call Coco Rosie’s music an acquired taste. The twisted sisters who make up the group, Bianca and Sierra Casady, sing with miniaturized voices, like Bjrk in jammies, and the music — nursery-rhyme rosaries banged out on toy pianos and spliced with neighing ponies — frequently mimics childhood preciousness, with ambling, repeated refrains and circular rhythms. But once you’ve adjusted to creepy strangeness and mud-pie composition, Noah’s Ark produces a soothing, otherworldly calm, as though you were listening to church hymns written by Edward Gorey. The primitive playfulness of the act’s sound stands in eerie contrast to lyrics loaded with images of death and apocalypse, heartbreak and utter abandonment. In spite of the pockets of magic created by such a unique approach, however, something this deeply bizarre works best in small doses. In album gulps, Coco Rosie sounds like Poltergeist’s Carol Anne holding a Fisher-Price tent revival.
