On tour in Indiana, after the show, some dude (and they’re always dudes who approach you as you traverse the Loser’s Circuit) came up to our guitiarist/vocalist to let him know how “It’s cool that you got two bitches backin’ you up,” referring to our vocalist and keyboardist/vocalist.
I imagine a dude who would say something like this would love the everloving shit outta Hank IV and this album III. It’s mighty post-hard rock anthems for the brah-geoisie, presumably best heard in venues where the tickets say something like “Cleveland: Make It a Bud Light” and the bartendresses push-up their collective cleavages to get bigger tips from drunkass dudes with bushy sideburns and mushy PBR-brains who are here to, you know, rock.
It is what it is what it is what it is. It’s a well executed rock and roll racket where everything’s where it needs to be for songs like these. Maybe that’s all you want from your music—loud guitars and pummeling 4/4 drums and gang squad backing vocals and an overall heavy sound with a lot of polish and practice and absolutely none o’ that indie-rock bool shit. Like self-proclaimed “kickass” bands from the 1990’s who sang about truckers and speed and truckers’ speed and so on and so forth. Yes, and so forth!
Fair enough. Side 2 of Funhouse, it ain’t, and yeah, I know, but what is? And that’s the fucking problem. Nothing is. So you get another album where you paraphrase Mitch Hedberg: People will either like this or hate this….. or they will think it’s ok... [Silt Breeze]
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