Out of all the odd musical groups I enjoy, my appreciation of the Dresden Dolls earns me the most flack from friends and enemies alike. And, you know, I just don’t get it. Sure, they’re brash, crass, and archly performative, but that’s the point. They’ve always been theatrical and dramatic to a nearly meta degree…what’s not to love about earnest posturing? On Yes, Virgina the Dresden Dolls leave behind much of the Wiemar madness that colored their debut for a more pop-influenced style. This move was a smart one: it allows them to sidestep self-parody and lets their music branch out into new, undreamed of areas. For example, the punk cabaret of “My Alcoholic Friends” and “Mandy Goes to Med School” swing with a verve that was conspicuously absent on their first record. The Dresden Dolls also seem to have mastered the art of the musical roller coaster; “Shores of California” and “Dirty Business” dip and swerve with amazing velocity. And I would be remiss not to mention the neo-torch song flavor of tracks like “First Orgasm,” “Sing,” and “Me and the Minibar.” Plus, Yes, Virgina has the most references to masturbation of any disc currently on the new releases self. Oh wait, that’s not the point I was trying to make. Overall, this sophomore release improves on an already fantastic premise. Amanda Palmer’s vocals still aren’t pretty, but they are strong and they feel real. The lyrics are still clever, but they’re wittier than ever. Palmer’s piano pounding is in fine form, and Brian Viglione’s drumming–always a high point–is both virtuosic and restrained. The production is sublimely crisp and nuanced. I’ll be living in this album for a long time to come. So, why don’t my friends like this band again?

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