

Using it as their (almost) exclusive melody instrument gives their music an anachronistic quality that does more to establish a gothic, steampunkish feel than most lyrics could. Rasputina’s use of the cello is in no way a gimmick. There is little novelty on this crisp, streamlined album beyond cellos playing rock music, which, let’s face it, has been pretty novel the whole time. Melora seems to have come to that inevitable point in every pop musician’s life when, like a salmon swimming upstream to its birthplace, they feel the urge to “return to their roots.” This is definitely the most uncomplicated Rasputina recording since their 1996 debut Thanks for the Ether. You can listen to the first single, “Holocaust of Giants,” here.

Melora/Rasputina’s new album, Sister Kinderhook, which was recorded with new bandmates Daniel DeJesus (second cello) and Catie D’Amica (drums), came out a few weeks ago. I also want to note that much like Nine Inch Nails or the Streets, calling Rasputina a “band” or using the pronoun “they” when referring to it is basically a formality the only constant member is former Ultra Vivid Scene member and Nirvana touring cellist Melora Creager, who is, as far as I’m concerned, one of the musical geniuses of the ’00s. What I’m referring to is the fact that there isn’t a guitar or bass to be found on any Rasputina recording their primary instrument is the cello. But it doesn’t mean I want it to be a complete joke. Rasputina are among my favorite bands ever: they can be incredibly creepy but also hilarious, often simultaneously, and they have an exceedingly unusual sound for a rock band to boot. The truly evil stuff frightens me some of the time and makes me laugh most of the time, but isn’t really my bag I’m more of an Addams Family/Haunted Mansion person when it comes to what kind of “dark” aesthetic I love. And although that statement might be sort of true, I think Rasputina means a lot more than that.Īnyone familiar with my former radio show knows that I’m a big fan of what you might call “dark” music. The standard angle on Rasputina is that they are a less cheerful, less guitar-driven, less male version of They Might Be Giants. Most reviews I’ve read of Rasputina albums, such as this rather unexpected piece in the Wall Street Journal, seem to focus on the band’s pillaging of obscure history for song subjects. Rasputina frontwoman Melora Creager, circa 1996.
