in brief : one learns at last the true origin of the band's name.
when i first heard pretty girls make graves several years ago, i thought they were one of these bands who shout a lot and cry in the dark, or vice versa, who sport copious tattoos and wear morrissey t-shirts, but whose music and its ferocity would make steven patrick swoon, in the bad way--the queen is dead, indeed.
based on "pictures of a night scene," i doubt that the band name was from the smiths song, or even from the dharma bums, for that matter. being in a band may be how they earn their keep, but they moonlight and their night job is where their hearts are, pretty girls make graves not so much a reference point as a statement of fact. the song begins w/ the band, like so many young kids these days, channeling u2's boy, all stomping drums and rolling basslines. soon, though, whispered voices ike death's breath intrude, and pianos and bells from some dim beyond lurking between halloween and the exorcist resound and toll. it's a song that v. much reminds one why the band is on matador and not on saddle creek, a song that'll keep you whistling past the graveyard for years to come.