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No instrument can touch me like the piano does. I could care less about anything accompanying it. My ear relentlessly seeks out and desires the keying of the piano. In case you don't get it, I have a thing about the sound of the piano. I just hope that Pleasure Forever (formerly Slaves) are bringing back the piano, because long live the most beautiful instrument in existence. Oh yeah, so you're probably wondering about the album. Well, it has a piano on it. Need I say more? OK, OK. The new, self-titled record from this San Francisco trio (also formerly known as noise-rockers The VSS) seems to suggest that the underground has taken a recent liking to the piano, along with vintage cabaret and theatrical tunes. Listening to this album, I close my eyes and imagine a dark, candlelit stage with thespians dramatically spinning around and sliding across it. With each song change, there's a set change and, although it's always dark, a mood change. Sometimes, there's a quiet, lovely solo act under the spotlight; at other times, the whole cast is dancing wickedly about the stage. Lacking the dreariness of most dark-sided bands, Pleasure Forever's sound feels like guilty pleasure — like you gave in to evil temptation. With its sinister sounds, this record could be the album on repeat in Hell (the glorified version of Hell, that is). Starting off soft, with only frail singing and the piano, "Meet Me in Eternity" goes on to explode into moving rhythm lines and infectiously entertaining "Ba-Ba-Da-Ba"s. The eight-minute-plus "Magus Opus" has delightfully delicate piano reminiscent of a child's music box, while singer/pianist Andrew Rothbard, with a singing style similar to Trent Reznor's, reveals again and again that, "Your eyes/ Give you away/ Hear ye sirs/ There are no cures/ Just stares/ And clever disguises." Combining the antique percussions and plucks at the piano's left end with an intense push-pull guitar line and Rothbard's "La-La-La"s, "Any Port in A Storm" feels like a fancy 1930s party and shows off the band's imaginative lyrics: "Sugar spun/ And whiskey sick/ Wood grain warmth/ You know the blood runs thick/ A match is lit/ Down the Mobius strip/ Like a sulphur perfume/ That smacks like bricks." While some records feel like tangible art (e.g. paintings, sculptures, etc.), this one feels like the physical representation of dark, near-gothic drama. This feeling wouldn't exist without the piano. The piano has a special power. When I hear it played right, it provides sheer ecstasy.
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