The Dresden Dolls Ain't Nuttin Ta Fuck Wit

Friday night was the Boston CD release party for The Dresden Dolls' new album Yes, Virginia... at the Orpheum Theatre. As an emotionally-stirred Amanda Palmer remarked while surveying the nearly packed 2,800-seat theatre, they've come a long way since trying to lure audiences to come see them play the coffin-sized Lizard Lounge. (If that paragraph doesn't sound like archetypal newspaper article fodder, I don't know what does.)

The audience, it should be mentioned, consisted of a high volume of striped clothing, bowler hats, guys in dresses, pagan princesses, pancake makeup, elves, living statues, and strangely enough, even some normal streetclothes now and again. The nefarious Dresden Dolls Brigade lurked outside in the alleyway, drawing chalk figures on nearby surfaces and generally behaving outlandishly.

First act on the bill was Porsches on the Autobahn - essentially a DJ, some highly caffeinated guys in suits armed with mikes, and a steamer trunk's worth of props. Their shtick seemed to be campy kung fu dancing and German translated badly into English. The only song I caught the lyrical gist of concerned the urge to have sexual relations with a girl's retina. During the final song the Dresden Dolls pounced onstage for some high energy boogying.

Inscrutable swordswallower Tyler Fyre played master of ceremonies between sets, introducing sideshow attractions such as a floozy who did a striptease while swinging a hulahoop and a frizzyheaded mad scientist and fraulein duo who told fractured fairy tales, then hurled toast at the audience.

HUMANWINE was the second musical act, bringing their wineriddled gypsy punk manifestos to the masses. Holly Brewer looked so diminutive when she first stepped onto the vast Orpheum-sized stage, but when the band exploded into "Big Brother," her formidable lungs let no one down. Drummer Nathan Greenslit must have bribed the soundman, because every nuanced brushstroke was audible, not to mention a kick drum like a heart seizure. They offered us "Rivolta Silenziosa," "Script Language," "Fattest Thin" (the stomping ogre singalong), and a few new numbers that sounded like a progrock band getting ambushed by razorwielding hoodlums. Amanda and Brian joined them onstage for the finale of "Wake Up," banging on a hodgepodge of bangable things.




Alright then, the Dresden Dolls. This seemed like a dressed-down event for them, though the trademark bowler hat and striped stockings were present. They opened the set with "Sex Changes," sort of the aural equivalent of a drill through the groin. In the best possible way, of course. The set list was heavily tipped in favor of the new album, which is to be expected, and we were treated to scalding versions of "Back Stabber," "Dirty Business," and "Mandy Goes To Med School."

"Coin-Operated Boy" was gotten out of the way early on, and included some deadly doublebass peddle action during the interlude. Surprisingly nothing caught fire during a hyper-accelerated "Girl Anachronism." In fact, at the end of "Necessary Evil" an overenthused Brian toppled over backwards, knocking equipment left and right. Amanda took the moment to introduce him as "Brian Viglione on the drums and the floor."

There was a round of cover tunes as well, notably Jacques Brel's "Amsterdam," the Maurice Sendak/Carol King ditty "Pierre," and Leonard Cohen's "Dance Me to the End of Love," which they intended to record for a friend's wedding, but ended up struggling with the harmony. After a few amusing false starts they nailed it on the fourth attempt.

There were guest appearances as well. Holly Brewer crept out of the shadows for some soaring backup vocals on "Delilah" against a rather apocalyptic backlighting. The Dolls also brought onstage a cluster of feather boa-toting thirteen-year-olds known as Sparkle Motion Girl Authority for a schoolgirl rendition of "I Love Rock and Roll." They fucked that one up too, but I doubt anyone minded. They fuck up charmingly.

Amanda introduced the encore by bemoaning the lack of energy at modern day concerts, notably audiences who watch with arms folded and heads nodding, as though in fear of expression. "Something died in the nineties." And she admired the energy issuing from the crowd on Brian's roadfood Iron Maiden CDs. (Brian flashed devil's horns.) With that they launched into "Sing," during which they were joined onstage by a HUMANWINE and Girl Authority chorus for some quality group ahhing. Many contributing audience members did their best to make Amanda proud. A sappy yet stirring way to end the evening.