Vanishing

Goths. I hate ‘em. Not because of their linear fashion sense, nor for their bogus imprecations, but because the noir, gloom-weaving trolls have tried to annex so many quality nondenominational bands. Believe it or not, Joy Division and the Cure didn’t carry around steel-plated lunch boxes or whisper ball-shrinking incantations, and for God’s sake, neither does Adult. But San Francisco three-piece the Vanishing have taken Adult’s brooding electro broth, sucked all of the fun parts out — the synth-drum dynamic, the mind-flattening bass and overall danceability — and distilled it into a vacuous, Kuperus-biting miasma. Perhaps front-woman Jesse Eva confronts the band’s shortcomings on "White Walls” singing, "To exist in this sterile space without a personality/you’re living in a clean and violent cell.” Or perhaps she’s talking out of her ass. Please Goths, you have Marilyn Manson and Harry Potter, can’t you just be happy with that?