Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers
Press & Reviews

Reviews of Better Days Coming Now
Teenbeat Records, 2003

On roughly half of these songs, the Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers (which, oddly enough, has more men than women) play gentle, minimal music in the spirit of Young Marble Giants -- ad hoc percussion or rudimentary drum programming backing up subtle, three or four note melodies knocked out on bass guitar or picked out on a Casio -- but with less metronomic precision to their playing. On the other half, they explore the possibilities of faux-orchestral mall-organ arrangements in the manner of the Magnetic Fields, but without the smug irony or cleverness. When they mount an ersatz-disco homage on "All You Want to Do Is Make Me Cry", it's not to rub their recherche tastes in our face -- it's only to reveal more starkly the desperation that was always present in the genre, the pathos of lonely people in clubs trying to find meaningful connection in a

place and with a manner least suited to it. In both approaches, there is an innocence to their songs that never crosses over into preciousness orprecociousness, despite occasional whimsy (particularly in "Bug Light") and the threat posed by Jeannine Durfee's schoolgirlish voice. However, by stripping her delivery of anything resembling seductiveness (which would imply a scheming calculation, a knowingness that thwarts innocence), Durfee is able to project a guileless yearning that is easy to sympathize with, easy to assume as an expression of your own hopes if you were so inclined. Often stumbling in their rhythms, or slightly missing cues, the Thinkers reveal unpolished edges, an unsteadiness that serves them well, giving a sense of organic spontaneity, while capturing just how fragile the impulse to create can be. The way the vocals are recorded contributes to this as well: the mikes' input level is turned way up, so they pick up a lot of the room as well as the voices, making for a palpable intimacy that at the same time avoids being claustrophobic. On the gentler songs, like "Cradle", "Winners" and 'Be Lonely With Me", the singing becomes an interior monologue, just as quiet and just as insistent, repeating the hopeful of discouraging phrases we use to buoy or undermine ourselves. These simple, unassuming mantras immediately stick in your head, in comfortable dialogue with your convoluted thoughts.   -- Rob Horning, Splendid E-zine

While 2001's Ume Sour reflected Rob Christiansen and Jeannine Durfee's stay in Japan and that country's certain fascination with flashy plastic and reflective culture influences, Better Days Coming Now finds the husband and wife duo back in Brooklyn, back on Teenbeat, and building another Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers album out of pop residue and little bits of happiness. Better Days Coming Now is like a Yo La Tengo album without the squelch and indie pop jones. Christiansen and Durfee deconstruct everything, separating out their cooing harmonies from plucked, faraway guitars ("Cradle"), recycling the Velvet Underground as patchy, keyboard-squiggle twee ("You Don't Mind Me"), and devoting their most ambitious arranging desires to a wavering and unpretentious tribute to the Bee Gees and chintzy cool love rock ("All You Want to Do Is Make Me Cry"). The album's tinny qualities can be somewhat trying; "Bug Light" is nothing more than the two of them singing to their frail selves. At the same time, the Sisterhood has been made stronger by the emergence of Durfee's vocals, as her particular non-singing singing voice is more interesting than Christiansen's. "Paul McGinnis" might be the best thing here. As chopped-up sequences and samples suggest early-'90s dance-pop (there just might be a smidgen of Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" in there), Durfee lilts "You want to be a star/Look inside and make yourself strong," and her fragile style makes the song's message of empowerment that much stronger. Highly recommended for fans of more eccentric pop sounds. 
-- Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide

A mainstay of the mid-'90s Arlington scene -- yes, there was such a thing -- ex-Egg Rob Christiansen has since covered a lot of ground. He and wife Jeannine Durfee spent two years in Japan, which was obviously an influence on the gently mixed-up sounds made by their band, the Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers. The 'Hood is now based in Brooklyn and has expanded to a quartet, although that's not evident from the thin, homemade sound of its third album, "Better Days Coming Now."

"All You Want to Do Is Make Me Cry" offers diluted funk and "You Don't Mind Me" manages a modest equivalent of Stereolab's groove, but most of the album is fragile and ephemeral. The principal timbres are Durfee's soprano, Christiansen's high tenor and a variety of tinny electronic sounds, including Casio beats and modem bleats. The group certainly doesn't seek to overwhelm its listeners. At its best, the Sisterhood's music is pretty, clever and a little coy. Appreciating its low-key charms is -- as Durfee and Christiansen warble on "Bug Light" -- "like waiting for my ladybug to shine" 
-- Mark Jenkins, The Washington Post

File (with affection) under: Quirky. The Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers, composed of Rob Christiansen (Grenadine, Eggs) and his wife, Jeannine Durfee, undertake their first West Coast tour in support of their third record, the gleeful Teenbeat release Better Days, Coming Now. Sonically, the Sisterhood is sort of like a twee-pop Deerhoof (if that's plausible)--with tangled boy-girl vocals, saccharine melodies, and hopelessly erratic song structures. Coupled live with skits and elaborate theatrics, the band's precious eccentricities couldn't possibly cloud the infectious delight of craft. -- Zac Pennington, The Stranger

The Nashville Scene, March 2002

Reviews of Ume Sour
Darla Records, 2001

with Christiansen's jumble of synthesizers, guitars, and drum machines. The clichéd praise "they incorporate so many sounds and genres" is quite appropriate here. In just three consecutive tracks they jump from drone to synth to broadway musical. "Nen-Ga-Joo" is a soft quiet near-drone accented by Christiansen's lyrical lament over his lack of time left in Japan. "Yakusoku (A Promise)," the highlight of the album, is a drum machine propelled synth-rock song layered with sharp distorted guitars and ambient vocals; on top of this are the incredibly catchy lyrics "I'm going to dream about you/if I dream about you will you dream about me?" Concluding the journey is "Armstrong Archer," possibly the quirkiest track of the album (which is not an easy title to give), which sounds like a montage of Disney musical ballads. "Ume Sour," much like its namesake, is sweet and intoxicating with a bit of a kick.

- Daniel Greenwald, All Music Guide

I've jokingly said before that you don't really need to travel the stars to find alien culture; you can just go to Japan. They seem to find Western culture as incomprehensible, which may explain why The Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers do what they do. The Sisterhood are a duo of casual ex-pats, Jeannine Durfee and Robert Christiansen, and are actually more of a marriagehood. Ume Sour was recorded on a two-year tenure as English teachers in Japan, and the disjointed influences often result in genuinely unique moments such as "Ne-ne Ami-chan," which sounds like The Pixies, Sonic Youth, and Heavenly trading licks. "Tottori Made" is a hokey little ditty, with an angelic female harmony and a crisp guitar lead, while "Lunchdate" smooths a lilting melody on top of a somewhat cartoonish beat and solemn bass, with a classy little bridge thrown in. A very engaging record.

- Ian Koss, Ink 19

Sometimes I am really in the mood for drum machines and poppy basslines with sugary sweet male/female vocals thrown in. It is for these times that Ume Sour will come in handy. Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers is Rob Christiansen and his wife Jeannine in ultra cute/semi-Japanese mode (the couple recently returned from two years living in Japan). Rob, who was in the Eggs and has played with Mark Robinson in Grenadine, crafts pleasant indie-pop filled with Casio keyboards, drum machines and acoustic guitar. If you've just finished watching a Powerpuff Girls marathon while eating several bowl-fulls of the new Powerpuff Girls cereal (the one with the sugar nuggets that fizz in your mouth), look to Ume Sour to continue your sugar rush!

- Aaron Snow, fakejazz.com

This disc from Jeannine Durfee and Robert Christiansen is a souvenir of the time the pair spent in Japan. Recorded in their living room and named after a favorite drink, the music is a curious mix of East and West. Some tracks, such as Casio-inflected "Ami-chan, Mai-chan", clearly show their Japanese influences. Others, such as "Armstrong Archer", betray a gaijin folk upbringing. Either way, the duo's sound is dominated by keyboards, which are simultaneously cheesy and cute. Like most Asian pop, the music here will probably sound wispy and lightweight to Western ears. Nevertheless, Ume Sour has its moments and presents an interesting take on what can happen when cultures fuse.

- rd, Splendid E-zine

To say that The Sisterhood Of Convoluted Thinkers’ music is unconventional doesn’t even begin to cover it. Underneath all the weirdness you can hear Rob Christiansen’s indie rock roots. He played with Mark Robinson and Jenny Toomey in Grenadine and was the trombone player in Eggs in the early 1990’s. The Sisterhood Of Convoluted Thinkers (comprised of Christiansen and his wife Jeannine) toys with the structure of Western pop music. Christiansen and Jeannine soaked up loads of Asian culture teaching English in Japan for the past two years, and the influence is undeniable throughout these ten tracks. With quirky electronic noises and acoustic instruments, the duo creates an unique sonic palette- the origins of which are difficult to discern.

Sometimes the insular weirdness overshadows the songs themselves, but silly yet clever lyrics intertwined with snippets of matching melody are never far off. Jeannine’s voice is small and extremely feminine, and it blends well with Christiansen’s minor strain. Listening to Ume Sour all the way through is somewhat baffling, though. The transitions between songs are often smoother than changes within particular songs. “Ami-chan, Mai-chan” exploits Jeannine’s very Japanese sounding voice. Backed by what sounds like a toy casio, a tinny, programmed beat, and a bass line playing only root notes, Jeannine coos a Gaijin story- her voice multi-tracked to sound even stranger. The explosive, noisy interlude toward the end is invasive and unexpected but only a minor interruption.

- Eric Greenwood, Drawer B