CocoRosie uses a morbid vocal trick -- evocative, almost narrative, even. Her trick is to chop her voice in twain. One half utters, a depressed Miss Havisham, while the other lilts like the gay ghost of young Judy Garland. I believe emotions work the same way: as discrete characters who must ply the same name, the same throat. Right now, for example, I'm Amused -- so different from when I'm Distraught. Amusement sees cornfields in sunny rooms; Distress mostly recounts facts. The two are good sisters. Amusement sings, and Distress, too, remembers golden heat and ice cream. More responsible, she tiredly looks on. At a beat, she can't help it: Distress recites father's suicide. Amusement, distracted, keeps her mouth open and the light in her eyes, meaning to hear her sister, and catching some of it, though she can't help but harmonize. They try to seem to listen to each other. They never interrupt. But they confer little, expressing much.
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Yesterday I saw CocoRosie at a nightclub in BA. 2h after midnight drinking an old fashion with 2 great ladies making her magic music. It was an amazing moment!
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