(Neumos) Synesthesia is an intriguing neurological anomaly in which “stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway.” In other words, some people can literally smell sound. With that in mind, if you were a “synesthete” as they’re called, here’s what the music of Electric Six would smell like: a sweaty, velvet tracksuit. Not sweaty in a “danced ’til we dropped” good way; more sweaty like the aging creep with a comb-over in the club who keeps trying to buy you drinks. Their overproduced, hipster-mustached dance-rock has somehow sustained a decade-long career, which has produced few, if any, memorable tunes, despite whatever NME told you back in 2003. Sure, it’s a Monday night: the music scene’s a little sparse. I understand. But wouldn’t you be better served reading, say, Bartleby, the Scrivener? As the titular character would say, if you asked him to go to this show: “I would prefer not to.” With Yip Deceiver.
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