The Sharp Things honor the talent of a dear friend and founding member

Drummer Steven Gonzalez loved Rush. And that Sugar album, Copper Blue. He also dug AC/DC, Green Day, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Led Zeppelin and Three Dog Night. In short, Gonzalez’s personal tastes were, like those of a lot of intensely talented musicians, all over the map. And it was that eclectic curiosity that drew Gonzalez and Perry Serpa together when they were—to cop a line from Patti Smith—just kids, living and listening and bopping around NYC.

In the beginning, Serpa and Gonzalez were the Sharp Things. (The band’s PR material lists each player’s “member since” join date; Serpa’s and Gonzalez’s are their birth years.) The duo’s first demo recordings, cut during a trip to Pennsylvania in 1995 as a kind of experiment in crafting artfully arranged indie-pop, came off so promisingly that the bogus band name they’d concocted for that project stuck. Within a couple of years, the Sharp Things had coalesced into a full band, gigging around the East Village.

Since 2002, the Sharp Things have been releasing a series of albums mostly on the loose chamber-pop model, but accented by forays into other styles, making the band’s output a treasure trove for listeners whose tastes run to thoughtful composition and big-sound acoustics.

When Serpa found himself in the middle of a songwriting blitz around 2009, during which he composed close to 40 songs, he decided to hustle the music onto tape without worrying too much about how it would eventually see release. Serpa recorded those tracks with the rotating roster of members the Sharp Things had come to enjoy throughout its decade-long history. A loose album series titled The Dogs Of Bushwick, drawn from those sessions, began to see release in 2013 on two records, Green Is Good and The Truth Is Like The Sun. Now comes the third, Adventurer’s Inn, its title taken from a bygone amusement park Serpa and Gonzalez used to frequent as kids in their shared hometown of Flushing.

“It’s a short, sharp part of a very self-indulgent whole,” says Serpa. “Almost a mini-LP, really good for those with attention-deficit disorder. We bounce around genres a lot, and on this record, we found ourselves pushing the sides out a lot further.” - Magnet Magazine

The New York collective The Sharp Things are a little bit indie-pop, a little bit chamber-pop, and a little bit rock and roll. Mostly though, on the band’s recently released Adventurer’s Inn, you get a warm collection of thoughtfully crafted pop songs. Most of the members of The Sharp Things have been playing and recording together since the band formed in the late Nineties. Led and co-founded by Perry Serpa, the band suffered a sad loss when their long time drummer, close friend and co-founder of the band with Serpa – Steven Gonzalez – passed away. The band carries on, and are playing some shows opening for The Church. They play tomorrow night with them, Tuesday, March 10th, at World Cafe Live. Go here for more information about the show.

Below, download “Union Chapel,” from the band’s recent album. - WXPN The Key

A smaller version of The Sharp Things than the one I saw at Jack Rabid’s 30th anniversary festival set the scene for The Church. Comprised of four members (two guitars, bass, and violin) including one fellow (Perry Serpa) who also was very accomplished on keyboards, they played a short set with some new songs as well as a cover tune. I especially enjoyed the violin player (Andrea Dovalle) and found them very pleasant to listen to. James Pertusi contributed a solid bottom line with his bass playing.

As for The Church, I haven’t seen them since they toured with Let’s Active and Tom Verlaine. It was October 15, 1988 at a beautiful old theatre (The Paramount) in Springfield, MA. The Church were riding high on the success of their gold album Starfish. That was a great show, but not as good as the one I saw on Friday the 13th. I’ve been a fan from their very first album, and I love Marty Willson-Piper’s work, but the band is doing just fine without him. I know that is sacrilege to some fans, but Ian Haug (guitarist from Powderfinger) is a fine musician and while nobody can replace Marty, the band can survive with somebody new.

They opened with a version of “Is This Where You Live?” that was radically different than the original. It started off very slow and was almost unrecognizable, and then the band kicked into high gear, rocketing through the sonic gates and turning this great old song into a barn burner. They followed that with several songs from their great new album Further Deeper and then an old one from The Blurred Crusade, “You Took.” For me, hearing these old songs played by today’s version of The Church was refreshing. It was like somebody lit a fire under the entire band. Steve Kilbey was a far cry from the young bass player I met in 1984 at The Paradise in Boston. He was smiling and joking with the audience and seemed to greatly enjoy himself, and lead guitarist Peter Koppes was also in fine form. Age has touched these two lightly, I am happy to say. They were kickin’, as were the entire band. Drummer Tim Powles has played with them for nigh on 20 years and kept a steady and powerful hand on the drums the entire time. The band also has a secret weapon in the form of Craig Wilson, who played keyboards, bass, and guitar, sometimes at the same time.


Peter Koppes of The Church

The entire production was rather like a stoned symphony, with Kilbey as the ringmaster. This was especially obvious on the extended “The Disillusionist”, with its theatrical overtones and dramatic feel. Not to mention the many-hued light show and psychedelic backdrop displayed on the screen. Clearly, this is a band that is comfortable in its skin, despite shifting personnel and changing times in the music industry. They trotted out their hits, “Metropolis” and “Under the Milky Way” (complete with a mirror ball, making it seem even more magical). And let’s not forget the eight minute opus, “Miami”, which closed out the first set. It had a chiming spaciousness and hearkens back to the wonderful “Hotel Womb” on Starfish. Closing out the show in a flourish of green light was crowd favorite, “Reptile”, which slithered sinuously into everyone’s aural cavities. A wonderful and fitting ending to a great show. - The Big Takeover (live review)

"Simply jaw-on-the-floor beautiful! The Truth is Like the Sun boasts some of the best songs in the band's nearly 15 years together." -

"Attains the same rarified air as Green is Good, like a unified double LP—so far. Just fabulous, again!" -

"The most distinctive release I have heard this year. It may also be the single best!" -

"Everything about this shimmering marvel just smacks of pure posh style. A positively beautiful jewel." -

Guitar, bass and drums is all very well, but sometimes you find yourself yearning for a bit more than the standard skinny white boy indie music that's so prevalent at the moment. If this is indeed the case, meet The Sharp Things, a 12 strong collective from New York City who embroider their songs with touches of violins, cellos, flugel horns and glockenspiels.

Although The Sharp Things hail from the United States, there's a very English sensibility to their music. Names such as The Divine Comedy, Prefab Sprout and Pulp come to mind when listening to Foxes & Hounds—indeed, certain tracks seem as if Neil Hannon is on lead vocals, so close is lead singer Perry Serpa's vocal similarity to the Irish dandy.

Whether you call it orchestral pop or chamber pop, it's true that when you add string sections to some songs it has a tendency to become overblown, as anyone who's heard the otherwise brilliant Rufus Wainwright's more unorthodox moments will testify to. Here though, the orchestration suits the songs beautifully. Take opening track, There Will Be Violins, which could almost be the band's manifesto set to music ("put down your guitars, you have nothing to say through them anymore").

Serpa's lyrics are literate, witty and touching in equal measure. One minute he's mentioning a "red-headed step child in flannel pyjamas", the next he's telling the short, sweet and sad tale of Letting Go, before pleading with a potential lover to take a chance on him in Spend The Night for the simple reason that "I've got a feeling about you".

These Dreams Of You is another lyrical gem, a break up tale written in such an honest and funny way that you can't help but smile. Serpa complains about his other half's cats ("you say 'they never bothered Matt'/he was the ex—he loved the cats"), her mother ("your mother doesn't care for the length of my hair, but she ain't the one wearing it") and her sister ("she's been living here since late last year...I guess she's never going to take the hint") before signing off with a cracking pay off line. It's all set to a tune that you won't be able to stop whistling for days.

Musically, the record covers all bases from the Bacharach/David clone of She Left With The Sun, the '70s funk soundtrack of The Suicide Bombers and the wonderful chaotic Silver Anniversary, which ends up sounding like Bertolt Brecht transported to 21st Century Manhattan, ending as it does with a seemingly endless outro of "and we're drinking and drinking and drinking...".

There's also the poignant, self-deprecating humour of I'll Always Be Your Loser Honey, the creeping paranoia that there's "something in the TV" in 95 St Marks Lane, and the soaring, gloriously romantic vision of the closing Love With The Perfect Stranger which all contribute to make Foxes & Hounds one of the best listens of the year.

The fact that the band are still struggling to find a UK distribution deal for the album sadly speaks more for the mindset of British record labels than it does about The Sharp Things. So get yourself online and order this now—you won't regret it. - musicOMH

Perry Serpa is a songwriter's songwriter. No doubt about it. His melodies are classic, unfettered lumps of yum, his arrangements seemed plucked from a different era and on the whole, Serpa and his NYC-based orchestral pop outfit the Sharp Things have a wonderfully timeless quality to them. Foxes & Hounds is their latest opus and clocking in at close to 60 minutes, it's a lot to stomach but well worth the effort. Parallels have been drawn to Joe Jackson and Ben Folds but really, the Sharp Things sound a lot more like Dan Hill or that dude Edwin McCain. Seriously, many would slag this stuff off as too MOR but considering that the Things have shared stages with Broken Social Scene, Evan Dando and Tindersticks, Serpa and friends instead get lumped into the class of underground pop statesmanship with Tommy Keene and Tobin Sprout. But can't we just focus on the bloody tunes, man. Tracks like "Homeless", "She Left With the Sun" and the tongue-in-cheek "I'll Always Be Your Loser, Honey" bristle with a uniquely earnest quality that allows Serpa to come off as a post-modern romantic and his players to come off as accomplices. And if you need a larger frame of reference, try Billy Joel — The Stranger's influence is abound on Foxes & Hounds, and considering it's been close to 30 years, it's about time for a renaissance. - The Spill

Think of New York City's coolest sounds and invariably it's influentially gritty street-smart poets (Lou Reed), angular guitar exponents (Television, The Strokes, Talking Heads) or the Hip-hop explosion that tend to spring to mind.

However, in recent times the Big Apple has been quietly been presenting a case for the sharpest, intelligent orchestrally-inclined pop sounds going down courtesy of imaginative writers/ arrangers such as The Magnetic Fields' Stephin Merritt and under-rated, but brilliant collectives such as Jim Sclavunos's fantastic Vanity Project.

And, just to reinforce the strength in depth New York is jealously hoarding in terms of dynamic, literate and ambitious modern-day pop, may we proudly present THE SHARP THINGS, with their tremendous second album Foxes & Hounds.

The eagerly-awaited follow-up to 2003's critically-acclaimed debut "Here Come The Sharp Things", Foxes & Hounds is an accomplished second collection of songs emanating from the pen of vocalist/ pianist Perry Serpa and embellished with some skill and panache by the disciplined, twelve-strong-band.

Opener "There Will Be Violins" gives you some idea of the scope of this band's capabilities. Serpa's fascinating, neo-surreal lyrics immediately make their presence felt (e.g : "I may be a red-headed stepchild in flannel pyjamas, but I have the gift of seeing tomorrow"), as does his imposing vocal, while with arch strings swooping and drums being brushed impatiently, the band mainline on drama akin to the best of Bacharach and Jimmy Webb.

It's by no means a flash in the pan, either, as songs like "Homeless" and "95 St. Marks Place" soon make abundantly clear. "Homeless" is built around a tremulous piano riff and makes like Randy Newman sitting in with the Tindersticks, while the grand designs and swelling choruses of "...St. Marks.." demonstrate that The Sharp Things are pretty damn effective where swelling string arrangements and full-blooded atmospheric pop are concerned.

But that's by no means the whole story and indeed Foxes & Hounds proves that The Sharp Things are remarkably versatile when tilling a variety of sonic fields. For example, try the swoony delights of the Gamble & Huff-meets-Pulp "She Left With The Sun" on for size; or nod along approvingly to the nagging, surprisingly guitar-heavy thrills of "These Dreams Of You Are So Much Sweeter Than The Truth": a Britpop-influenced showstopper with a title that Morrissey would surely entertain.

Hearteningly, they work hard to ensure the quality control never dips, and indeed there are further highlights galore, not least courtesy of the sensory-assault pop with manic Arabesque strings that is "50 Heads Over High Street" and the easy-to-recall anthemic sway of "Hard Life" and its magnificently melancholic chorus.

But really this is a complete and well-rounded affair with precious few weak spots and indeed a relative oddity like the enigmatically short, Reggie Perrin pop of "Letting Go" (sample lyric: "He stood 6 ft 2 in bare feet/ she was half his size if that") seduces you with ease before coming to an abrupt halt. It all adds up to a beautifully-conceived album written with skill and imagination and executed with considerable aplomb: culminating in the belief that with Foxes & Hounds The Sharp Things are surely in the hunt. (8/10) - Whisperin & Hollerin

An Oscar Wilde quote in the liner notes always bodes magnificently. But one listen to The Sharp Things' baroque pop and it becomes clear that the embrace of Mssr. Wilde is not simply blind embellishment. Actually, in a world of dorky ironists like Beck and Stephen Merritt, what's particularly striking about The Sharp Things is that they're dead bloody serious. Musically, this is head-shaking astonishing, alternately recalling The Smiths, Divine Comedy, the Bad Seeds and even early Elton John, a sort of grandiose collision of English folk and chamber music, with jazz and country flourishes. Like Tom Waits, singer Perry Serpa's solemn delivery conveys sadness as if it were an immovable, acceptable reality ('tis, innit?); he's a balladeer with Nick Cave's sense of drama and Jarvis Cocker's world-weariness. When he cautions, "I'll take you from the impact to the undertow," you're both intrigued and afraid. You'll go, just the same. - Flaunt

"I don't fit in." "I'm planning on being hopeful soon." "There's no point in continuing." "Oh you little bitch, you could have anyone but you prefer to torture me." "The day's been a disease, weakening me slowly as I slip into its sleeves."

Welcome to the world of Perry Serpa, the Travis Bickle of chamber pop. The album title/band name implies a democratic group-think à la the 1960s (the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks) but make no mistake — pianist/songwriter Serpa is an autocrat when it comes to brandishing his skills as a melancholic tunesmith.

Sporting a wavy timbre reminiscent of Gordon Lightfoot, Serpa swaths his nihilistic venom in a baby's blanket of luscious melodies and panoramic arrangements — a Jimmy Webb for the disenfranchised.

Sweeping statements about existential loneliness ("Vacationing"), laments about his loser's lot in life ("I Will Always be Swimming In This Sea") or bitter romance ("Lies About You And I") ably demonstrate that Serpa won't morph into the happy-go-lucky balladeering type any time soon. But like a clever ex-Beatle once said, "Genius is pain," and if Serpa's not a genius, he's at least pretty darn good at what he does.

It's fortunate that he's bonded with such a sprightly collective of sympathetic musicians (including violin, cello and flugelhorn). Without them, the guy would probably implode in a soot trap of misogyny and self-loathing. Here Comes The Sharp Things is a thing of tragic beauty. - Amplifier

What began five years ago as the Sharp Things' reaction to the lockstep legions of indie-rock bands cranking out their "alternative" product has gotten very serious. Always the brainchild of vocalist/songwriter Perry Serpa, the ever-expanding New York City 10-piece now sounds, at times, like a full-blown Off Broadway production. Tony Award-winning actor Michael Cerveris has even been drafted to sing "The Jumpers," the dramatic Stephen Sondheim-esque opening track, giving the production an electrifying, Sparks-like sheen.

The concept has become grand enough to make good use of the New York Symphonic Arts Ensemble, yet it's still intimate enough to devote one track to the Hold Steady's Franz Nicolay playing the accordion in his Brooklyn kitchen. Serpa, surely one of a dwindling number of singers who's heard of '60s orchestral-rock genius Tupper Saussy (Neon Philharmonic), croons "Through With Love" with enough shirtsleeves-rolled-up zeal to ensure that things never sink into a sea of melodrama.

Don't let all the trumpets, oboes and cellos make you nervous. Underneath the big-league arrangements are a set of muscular tunes that would still sound good played by a standard rock combo. But if you can add a stirring girls' chorus to sweeten "Don't Hold Out Hope," you'd be a fool not to do it. And Serpa is certainly no fool. - Magnet

The Sharp Things, led by the velvet-voiced Perry Serpa, have been developing their swollen indie pop sound for over a decade now, and in many ways A Moveable Feast could be seen as the culmination of their efforts. The jangly acoustic sensibilities that played around the edges of the last two albums are all but gone here, abandoned in lieu of focusing on re-creating (or re-envisioning) mid-'60s baroque pop. And to be honest, the Sharp Things have always been at their best when they've given in to florid instrumentation and outright bombast in the vocals department. Frontman Serpa's smooth vocals are perfectly fitted to this retro-chic sound, especially on blue-eyed soul tracks like "Cruel Thing." It would have been a huge loss if this track hadn't been included on the album, by the way (it was added at the last minute at the urging of Bar/None's Glenn Morrow). Hyperbole is warranted. This is a thrilling, shiver-inducing torch song that condenses and focuses the Sharp Things' best traits: their honkin', eleven-members-strong sound, their savvy songwriting, and their infectious energy. "Through with Love" is another standout track; it's a perfect storm of brassy, clown-colored theatricality, thoroughly affecting lyrics, and ebullient symphonic swirls (courtesy of the New York Symphonic Ensemble). It's the kind of indie pop over-the-topness that will have fans of this genre dancing on their tippy-toes. A Moveable Feast is hard to fault: the production is clean and wet (a sound, by the way, which belies the fact that this album was more or less recorded on a laptop), the material is wide-ranging and well made, and the Sharp Things themselves sound more mature and more confident than ever. Will it ever get better for this ragtag bunch of New Yorkers? It's not clear. This album might just be the Sharp Things' finest work.

- All Music Guide

It's fitting that Tony award-winning Broadway star Michael Cerveris belts out the vocals on the opening track to the new Sharp Things album. On their third full-length, New York's favorite 10-plus-member chamber-pop outfit have crafted a record that's as theatrical and ambitious as the group itself. Songs like "Through With Love" and "An Ocean Part Deux" —with their sweeping melodies and tasteful drama—would be more at home on Broadway than in Brooklyn; others, like "Don't U Leave Me This Way" and "Don't Hold Out Hope," effortlessly evoke Bacharach's breezy pop. Ringleader Perry Serpa has an eye for detail and a knack for storytelling. Whether he's spinning yarns about being down and out in London ("Bureau de Change"), good-natured stalking ("What's The New Girl Wonder") or moment of solitude in the Big Apple ("Driving In Manhattan In My Car"), you'll find yourself swept up and away into another more polished and cinematic world. - HARP

It's always a treat when, while listening to a disc, you can call out a band's influences easily enough, but you don't get that twinge to chuck it and just listen to the thing it reminds you of instead. Or when a disc boasts guest appearances from musicians of higher profile or smoother technique than the core players, but those core players' contributions still come off as more inventive and rewarding than that of the guests. Or when the highest-concept track on a disc isn't the most thought-provoking.

The Sharp Things' forthcoming album A Moveable Feast, due out on Bar/None Records in late June, does all those good things. It kicks off with a strings-and-vocal tune based on Nick Hornby's acclaimed recent novel A Long Way Down, and it only gets more compelling once it eases back into more traditional sonic territory and songs about the sort of things pop songs are often about. The 10-or-so-piece New York band pillages sophisticated ideas--from its '60s chamber-pop forebears, from the Brill Building songwriting factory, from classic French pop, and so on--and infuses its songs with a healthy dose of drama, romanticism and hope. Evidently the guy from The Hold Steady with the mustache, an opera singer and the Broadway guy who starred in The Who's Tommy all guest on Feast , but those are just details next to singer Perry Serpa's grown-up yet restless croon and the band's nuanced, lived-in dynamic. That's fitting, considering Feast is their third full-length and the band's been kicking around in some formation for over a decade. Whether or not the album's destined for a round of the "sounds-like" game upon its release, The Sharp Things succeed because they understand what's great about their own faves, and they're able to add their own musical personality to the pop formulas they've decoded. - New Haven Advocate

For New York City’s the Sharp Things, EverybodyEverybody represents the completion of a quadrilogy of releases, and the wringing of some 40-plus songs penned by singer/songwriter Perry Serpa. The sonic territory traveled in those three years and four albums has forged a wide path that gets a final punctuation on their latest LP.

It’s no secret that The Sharp Things have a tendency toward the irreverent, as was heard during the ‘70s glam-punk of “The Libertine” on 2014’s Adventurer’s Inn. Things don’t get quite that over-the-top on EverybodyEverybody, but Serpa and company dabble plenty in a grab-bag of genres. In terms of a seamless transition between the third and fourth albums of their storied four-parter, EverybodyEverybody comes off as the more reflective, less rebellious installment. Most finales are that way. That doesn’t change the fact that whatever aural costume The Sharp Things choose to don somehow comes out sounding unlike anything else you’re listening to, unless you’re listening to all of it at the same exact time.

EverybodyEverybody is essentially one long, uninterrupted song cycle, interspersed with sound collages and buffering squalls between tracks to create an uninterrupted experience. “Full Deep Breaths” introduces the record, an audio sample awash in hypnotics that quickly gives way to a drum-machine beat and a warbling melody on “Something Big.” Serpa sings, “Can I trust in you to do the right thing?” with the Sharp Things cloaked in a No Wave patina, reminiscent of the fussy pop of Future Islands, waiting out the crescendos of lilting synths and volume swells in instrumentation as the song progresses.

Serpa’s voice is a husky baritone that lunges for higher pitches, not unlike Elbow’s Guy Garvey, and ambitious ranges that communicate real feelings. To wit, lush harmonizing propels the Lennon-esque “Shine Shine Shine,” a tune that fits so superbly into Serpa’s songwriting wheelhouse that it’s a wonder he’s able to jump in and out of it so easily. The song ends with the sounds of gently falling rain and an emerging acoustic guitar, ushering a blossoming melancholy for the moody “There’s Been No One Since You.” That undercurrent of gloom is somehow always part of the Sharp Things’ sound, even when it’s not explicitly made to be. It’s a liquid ballad, richly textured, with Serpa’s voice aching as it should for the protagonist’s despair.

The veil lifts ever so on the audio patchwork sample of “High October,” a kind of creepy party conversation mishmash that bleeds into the dreamy, tongue-in-cheek “Family Day at the Lake.” Here, a hilariously satirical account of the perception of harmless family fun is threatened by, as Serpa sings, “White trash and motorboats/tight Speed-o overload/spoiled children of the West/flying on crystal meth.” The song is melancholy but light, like a John Grant sonata, tastefully orchestral and with an emotive sense of catharsis when Serpa counters the comedy with, “I know I’ve sinned/But you were the smile on a smileless face/you were the life in a life erased.”

EverybodyEverybody ends on a whimsical note with the vibrant “The Libertine Ciel Rouge,” a track that contorts itself in a funhouse mirror of sounds—walking bass, ramshackling percussion, unwieldy flutes and a splashy nightmare-circus bent. It’s a bit of a bizarre ending to the project, but again, the Sharp Things have a tendency to embrace the tangential. In doing so, they’ve come a long way toward separating themselves from the proverbial pop herd.

Disclosure: Perry Serpa is also a music publicist who has worked with Paste on several stories over the years. - PASTE MAGAZINE

The Upshot: Final installment of a four-album series dubbed “The Dogs of Bushwick,” manages somehow to eclipse even the chamber-pop outfit’s earlier efforts (all of which were impressive enough on their own).

BY JOHN B MOORE

Around 2008, New York’s chamber pop flag wavers The Sharp Things set out a seemingly unimaginable crusade to record 40-plus new songs as part of a four-album set dubbed “The Dogs of Bushwick.” Despite the fact that most musicians tend to be big on ideas and not so hot on follow through, the group faithfully soldiered on with the pledge, turning out one solid album after the next (Green is Good, The Truth is Like the Sun and Adventurer’s Inn, all between 2013 and 2014). And far from being an eye-roll inducing pretentious practice that brings to mind some of the most self-indulgent moments of the 1970s, this collection was pretty damn fantastic.

The final entry, the 10-song album EverybodyEverybody, manages somehow to eclipse even the earlier efforts (all of which were impressive enough on their own). The dramatic cycle that streams seamlessly from one track to the next sounds more like one massive soundtrack to life, from the early moments of first love through heartache and reconciliation, the album is one massive sweeping moment of beauty with several seconds of silence every few minutes. Drawing inspiration from Brian Wilson and George Harrison to Bowie and Harry Nilsson, EverybodyEverybody is a masterclass in songwriting and execution.

After this powerful four-album opus, you can only hope than band doesn’t decide to call it a day. - BLURT