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Buffalo Daughter
I (Emperor Norton Records)
By: Scott D. Lewis
 Buffalo Daughter must hate music critics. Why else would they have done this? This I? Why, other than contempt for the fool whose job it is to construct a concise overview of a single record, would they have crammed about a zillion different musical styles, many of which simply defy the limitations of the English language (maybe their fellow Japanese could manage better), onto a single album? It's understandable for a band to not want to be put in a box, but does that mean they have to blow all those boxes up? Here's a down-the-list round-up of the problem Buffalo Daughter has delivered: Angelic, cooing female harmonies which are joined by some beefy art-rock; robot-on-the-blink blips and bleeps behind an endless series of "I"s; tense and dramatic, semi-industrial electrosmears beside a chorus that sounds like those kids from The Wall after they went and joined the Manson Family; symphony tuning that turns into rocking, bubblegum power-pop; a beaty electro-funk-freakout; stuttering down-tempo house paired with frisky flying electrons and computo-vocals; flowery pop with mechanical female word-jazz; slightly sped-up, '70s sleazy soul interrupted by wacky gongs and toyish moog; lazy and bubbling art-pop dancing with the Cocteau Twins; ambient guitar balanced against twinkling notes; jungle beats and bird sounds smashed with rave rhythms, extended organ notes and the voice of a childish girl who seems to be singing "The Girl from Ipanema" in Pig Latin; a cuddle-core song played on Tinkertoy instruments and spun backwards. Buffalo Daughter may want to perplex and stupefy music critics around the world, and they shall, but they can be beat by the following review: I is different.
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