Review by: Andy Malcolm
In the unique words of the Pet Shop Boys: “What have I, what have I, what have I done to
deserve this?”. I think the answer is “You do some kind of reviews zine and therefore you
get sent cds to review”.
This is an album that is rammed to the gills with songs that I do not want to listen to, or
even hear ever again, unless I am fucking right drunk and I am hugging my friend Simon (when
he comes back from Japan for two weeks) in a pool of spilt beer and blood at the Waterfront.
If I am to hear these songs under such circumstances, I will be ok. But if I hear them
whilst sober, compos mentis, or angry, I will possibly be quite upset. One song sounds like
fucking Supergrass, for shits sake.
Sample lyric “And my girlfriend loves me”. Great. Do you think I give a toss, as you
wholeheartedly debase the 1980s with your plastic music? If these guys had come out in the
1980s they would have sold 350 records and maybe you would have seen them listed at #15 in
the “independent chart” on the Chart Show on ITV, as they compare so miserably to their
forefathers. But for some reason in 2005, being a shit band gives you quite a shot at
selling several records and all the joyous fringe benefits that come with such an accolade.
I think its all just lost on me, these tunes are so meangingless to my existance, and utterly
devoid of inspiration or life affirmation – it washes over my soul like so much vacuous
phonus-balonus. I feel nothing other than apathy and a nagging sense that I am wasting my
time listening to this guff even once for the purpose of an irrelevant review that I am cranking out merely to indicate that we received the flaming thing in the first place. Blank like an automaton. Turn me off. And the bloody cd whilst
you’re at it.