The Lovemakers

The Lovemakers
Times of Romance

When Lisa Light pulled a Yoko Ono with Scott Blonde of indie shoegazer act Applesaucer, his band mates took a cue from pop history and told them to piss off. Among the dire shock of rejection and his disintegrating relationship with Light, Blonde searched incessantly for a savior, a guiding light of musical morality, and found that idolatrous figure in none other than the man who was once a symbol formerly known as the Artist currently known as Prince.

Bonded through musical destiny and armed with Scott’s “lyrics about sex and some kind of fantasy life,” Light and Blonde needed only one more element to complete their new group: Jason Proctor. They met deep in the stale dungeons of a role playing session in June of 2002 at a mutual friends permanent bachelor pad, and upon discovering they were all neighbors, decided to form the Lovemakers under a mission to “command audiences to once again dance to a rock band” because they hadn’t for many years danced to a rock band, and that’s an idea you can take to the bank.

Attracting an ever increasing local fan base through their infectious beats and onstage antics, including using a dildo as a guitar pick and gratuitous post-high-school PDA between band

members, the Lovemakers managed to gain attention from a major label agent by their third show.

They signed on to Cherry Tree through the brilliant Martin Kierszenbaum, who coincidently also discovered t.A.T.u., and recorded their major label debut,

“Times of Romance.”

It’s difficult to describe this album without oozing about the vintage synths and throbbing new wave electro dance beats embellished by the recent addition of percussionist Josh (I am not making this up) “the Eagle” Kilbourne. I like to think of it as the lovechild of New Order and Robert Smith, after Gary Numan slipped something into their drinks; however audience reaction probably describes the sound of the Lovemakers best. One fan at a recent show in their hometown Oakland, California called them, “a pink Ferrari driving through a mountain of coke” and an associate of mine, unaware of that comment, felt as though, “if you’re a woman, and like cocaine, you’ll probably dig this album.” For the rest of us, Times of Romance could come off as an exploitation of a recently deceased trend, and may quickly descend to the bottom of your collection.

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