02/26/08
Text: Scott Indrisek
We loved us some Juno, let’s get that much straight—check out our issue #32 interview with Diablo Cody, from the weeks before she exploded into. But one has to admit that excellent cultural artifacts often spawn a parade of imitators and hangers-on—the media equivalent of a plague of locusts. (Think of all the terribleness that Nirvana inadvertently unleashed on our world; Silverchair was just the beginning). This is why we were a bit nonplussed to receive a press release with perhaps the most unfortunate subject line in the history of public relations. Ahem…"If you loved Juno, you’ll love the Terrordactyls—check out the adorable antifolk duo’s debut album featuring Kimya Dawson."
A quick primer for those who have somehow been unconscious for the past three months. Kimya Dawson is a “charmingly” eccentric singer-songwriter who used to be 1/2 of the Moldy Peaches. She contributed a bulk of the soundtrack to Juno, including the preciously simple closing track that Michael Cera and Ellen Page duet on. A few weeks back, pigs began to fly when Dawson and former cohort Adam Green (with whom she’d written a song called “Who’s Got The Crack”) made a live performance on The View. Dawson’s songs are the twee backbone of Juno. They’re also the worst aspect of the film, not counting the oh-so-adorable-it-hurts animated title credits. It’s grating to lump Dawson in with anti-folksters like Jeffrey Lewis, who can turn a childlike wonderment with the world into truly humorous material that makes you want to buy the person next to you a drink, after hugging them. For the Juno songstress, cute is all she’s aiming for, and it can be as retch-inducing as Ipecac. (It’s worth checking out Village Voice’s Rob Harvilla and what he has to say about the phenom here).
Which brings us to the Terrordactyls. Full disclosure: As of this typing, we’ve never actually heard the Terrordacytls, which isn’t important to our point, we promise. (OK, that was a lie. We dipped our toe in thirty seconds. Snap judgment: we smell Bright Eyes breeding with The Microphones). They could be the sons of Matt & Kim, which is physically impossible, but we get a distinctly similar “we’re in love with life, now love us!” vibe from this duo. So who was responsible for turning their music, which might indeed be wonderful, into more aural wallpaper to accompany the new Juno generation? That, my friends, would be the trend-obsessed PR industry. Perhaps the slogan-rich lingo of late night infomercials is used ironically—as Irvine Welsh did last year with If You Liked School, You’ll Love Work, the best title of a bad book ever—but it still makes us feel dirty. Ditto the press release’s assertion that the two band members met in high school, where they played music along with “capture the flag and four-square.” LOL! Let the infantilizing of America begin—just leave us out of it, please.
