The Chronicles of the Pussywarmers
There’s a certain tendency to lump together all the bands of that late ’20s / early ’30s stripe into one big “retro” camp. Be it the Squirrel Nut Zippers, the World/Inferno Friendship Society, or – in this case – the Pussywarmers – the bands take the doo-wacka-doo of hokum acts, the hot jazz sound of Parisian combos, and elements of early folk blues, and infuse them with a bit of punk flair.
However, the Pussywarmers (despite what their name might imply in terms of sexual content) are creepy as fuck. The end of “I Had A Dream” ends with footsteps and whistling that I swear to God comes from Fritz Lang’s M – and if it’s not, it certainly uses that for its inspiration. And what makes the whole of the album even more disturbing is that something like the funereal dirge of “With Thee” is preceded by the oompah of “La Marcia Dell’amor Negato,” which is a beer hall polka.
The Chronicles of the Pussywarmers is certainly an album that keeps you on your toes, and in your cups, as well. Be you drinking for joy, or drowning your sorrows, this record will have you imbibing well past your limit.