It’s generally agreed that modern vehicles are constructed primarily of steel, and that tin is an unreliable, volatile material that is most unfit for mass car production.

            A taxi fabricated from such compounds carrying vocalist Tin Star, the “Tin Cab” transports Gemini Five’s “When the Body Speaks” into a video as disheartening as the vehicle’s namesake frontman.

            One of the few Swedish outfits claiming the “glam” path to semi-stardom, these good-time rockers have managed to plaster “sleaze” about their reputation—a classless attempt to express their appreciation for the success given them thus far in their careers.

            Novelty clothing and lovely females do not musicians make. Overly makeupped and armed with shadows, the quartet commence the film in a dim, strobe-lit room. The story quickly advances to the aforementioned “Tin Cab,” with Tin Star sporting a ridiculous pirate’s headpiece and two live dolls in the backseat.

            Adhering to the four-second video shot rule, the scene transitions again to the dark room where feather-boa-clad Tin Star and his crew are choreographically banging their heads to the anthem-oriented track.

            We now return to the infamous taxi that has taken to the streets of a sickeningly green metropolis. The vehicle’s occupants withdraw from the car and sprint into a nearby apartment building. Tin, gazing intimately at his reflection, obviously has one thing on his mind as he zealously knocks on the door of the room where the two backseat dolls are waiting.

            Tin re-enters his caravan with a comrade and two new females, only to come across another bandmate, Snoopy, losing a parking lot battle. Finally making their hasty exit, the crewmembers venture to their next and yet undetermined escapade.

            The cadets of this glittered troupe should adjust their respective hierarchies of needs; basic motivations should be prerequisites to vanity and self-actualization. C-