Persephone’s Bees are apparently Russian, or at least their smoky-voiced singer-songwriter is–the press release I received devoted an entire paragraph to her and not to her backup. In any case, her voice is one of the better things about this band–lush and hypnotic—it deserves better lyrics than most of the ones I heard here. One cliche after another, and too much repetition (for my taste) can affect the opinion of even the best singers and musicians.
The album’s best song is in Russian, and I had a Lithuanian friend attempt to translate it for me. But we got bored with that and just decided to enjoy it. The record’s sound ranges from sugar-headachy candy pop to Raveonettes-lite ghostly retro rock, gypsyish in places with more complex guitars and psychedelic keyboards in others, but for the most part, it’s infected with that same mediocrity that I’ve come to expect from major label releases–no risks (aside from the song in Russian), nothing really to say, and enough sweetness to stick in your throat like too much cotton candy.