As proudly goofy members of the punk-pop church, the Black Kids have neither profound gloom nor shocking musical innovations to impress the sort of hipsters mildly amused by musicians supporting their tales of temporary passion with big beats, old-style synthesizers and background singers echoing their leader with deadpan sarcasm.
Rather, the Kids’ sarcasm is a clue to the difficult balancing of contrasts accomplished on Partie Traumatic. They use just enough of it to safely distance themselves from teenage confusion while still admiring that time’s willingness to settle for nothing less than ecstasy. Only the best subversives can convince audiences that they too can enjoy both maturity and the memory of sheer silliness.
