Much critical anticipation preceded the sophomore effort from Pan-Asian Prog-House mix artist Flight 311. Unfortunately, the house-bound (reportedly a paraplegic due to an unfortunate kitchen mishap in his youth) Singapore-based sion of Irish Celt-metal superstar Floyd O'Floyd still hasn't escaped the shadow of his much more talented and far more red-headed progenitor. The beats go on (and on and on) on this disc; far too long for most listeners. Perhaps they go for this sort of thing in the Orient, but it's hard to imagine Ibiza club-goers snorting mountains of cocaine to this. Much of the recording appears to be based on innovative forms of feline emasculation; only one track stands out, the epic-length tribute to the composer's long-time house guest, "The Sound That Forty-Five Thousand Can-Openers Make When Dropped From 100 Meters Onto Celine Dion." Hopefully, now that the slump is over and the record companies have extracted their due, Flight 311 can move forward and perhaps even live up to the masturbatory fancies of emotionally disturbed anime fans. The rest of us will still be waiting.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Insipid isn't just a t-shirt
Much critical anticipation preceded the sophomore effort from Pan-Asian Prog-House mix artist Flight 311. Unfortunately, the house-bound (reportedly a paraplegic due to an unfortunate kitchen mishap in his youth) Singapore-based sion of Irish Celt-metal superstar Floyd O'Floyd still hasn't escaped the shadow of his much more talented and far more red-headed progenitor. The beats go on (and on and on) on this disc; far too long for most listeners. Perhaps they go for this sort of thing in the Orient, but it's hard to imagine Ibiza club-goers snorting mountains of cocaine to this. Much of the recording appears to be based on innovative forms of feline emasculation; only one track stands out, the epic-length tribute to the composer's long-time house guest, "The Sound That Forty-Five Thousand Can-Openers Make When Dropped From 100 Meters Onto Celine Dion." Hopefully, now that the slump is over and the record companies have extracted their due, Flight 311 can move forward and perhaps even live up to the masturbatory fancies of emotionally disturbed anime fans. The rest of us will still be waiting.
Slick Euro-Glide Punk and Southern-Gospel Fusion
ARTIST: Ronnie Day
ALBUM: The Future Comes
Review Pending
ALBUM: The Future Comes
Review Pending
Dark Times in Accordion-Land
BAND: National Book Development
ALBUM: When By The Ruins I Run Past
I'll say this for NBD, they really know how to suck the life out of room.
I stumbled upon this album whilst leafing through a stack of CDs I was trying to avoid reviewing, and was struck by the sense of foreboding in the album art. Before I ever slid it into the ole CD-player, I knew I was in for something extraordinary. And I was not mistaken. National Book Development describes themselves as "the only heavy-metal accordion trio touring South Georgia today", and ten minutes alone with their music made it clear why this is so. NBD is truly sui generis - and that's a good thing.
Singer, songwriter and lead accordionist Jeremy Schlapfmeinst penned all the songs, produced every track and served as both photographer and model for the album art. In addition, he also is the legal guardian of fellow-bandmates Gerhard Muddschlinger and Helga McPhly. (Both are currently out of prison on a work-release program and have been remanded to Schlapfmeinst's custody.) Their dark, brooding style reflects the complex relationships the three band members are negotiating. Out of this volatile mix of talent and angst, National Book Development has crafted a CD chock-full of the most depressing tunes this side of "Bela Legosi's Greatest Hits". The title cut, When By The Ruins Oft I Past, opens with a haunting accordion lick reminiscent of the best work of Benny Goodman, assuming of course that Benny Goodman played the baritone-accordion and was blasted out of his mind on Jack Daniels and oxycodine. The rest of the album builds upon the themes of lost love, personal estrangement and nerdish awkwardness that only an accordion player could truly understand.
Or so I've been told.
Who Might Like It: Goths, Aging Polish Divorcees, bored teens who will listen to anything depressing
2 Stars
ALBUM: When By The Ruins I Run Past
I'll say this for NBD, they really know how to suck the life out of room.
I stumbled upon this album whilst leafing through a stack of CDs I was trying to avoid reviewing, and was struck by the sense of foreboding in the album art. Before I ever slid it into the ole CD-player, I knew I was in for something extraordinary. And I was not mistaken. National Book Development describes themselves as "the only heavy-metal accordion trio touring South Georgia today", and ten minutes alone with their music made it clear why this is so. NBD is truly sui generis - and that's a good thing.
Singer, songwriter and lead accordionist Jeremy Schlapfmeinst penned all the songs, produced every track and served as both photographer and model for the album art. In addition, he also is the legal guardian of fellow-bandmates Gerhard Muddschlinger and Helga McPhly. (Both are currently out of prison on a work-release program and have been remanded to Schlapfmeinst's custody.) Their dark, brooding style reflects the complex relationships the three band members are negotiating. Out of this volatile mix of talent and angst, National Book Development has crafted a CD chock-full of the most depressing tunes this side of "Bela Legosi's Greatest Hits". The title cut, When By The Ruins Oft I Past, opens with a haunting accordion lick reminiscent of the best work of Benny Goodman, assuming of course that Benny Goodman played the baritone-accordion and was blasted out of his mind on Jack Daniels and oxycodine. The rest of the album builds upon the themes of lost love, personal estrangement and nerdish awkwardness that only an accordion player could truly understand.
Or so I've been told.
Who Might Like It: Goths, Aging Polish Divorcees, bored teens who will listen to anything depressing
2 Stars
Not for the faint of heart, (nor the musically-inclined)
BAND: Criminal Deportation
ALBUM: It Pays to Be Obvious
The latest LP from New Orleans post-ska sludge rockers Criminal Deportation shows just how far a band can stretch a bad metaphor if they have no taste, no style, and several large stacks of Marshall Amps. "It Pays to be Obvious" showcases the band's unique talents refined over years of swigging warm beer, sucking out the heads of crayfish and dodging rotten veggies in Louisiana's atmosphere heavy dives & honky-tonks. What are those talents, you may ask? My guess is, "staying alive in an environment unsuited to the task".
The first cut, "My Girl and Her Headstone", is a Marshall-amp-heavy rock/polka stomp that decries the depersonalization of love and the skyrocketing cost of moonshine while still managing to get in a dig at war, inflation, gay rights and Dadaism. At least, that was my interpretation of the somewhat obscure lyrics, indifferent beat, incomprehensible melody and intolerable guitar-thrashing.
The rest of the album reprises all the themes explored so eloquently in the first cut without providing any noticeable differentiation between tracks.
Who Might Like It: The deaf. Morons. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.
1 STAR (for the pretty photo on the album cover)
ALBUM: It Pays to Be Obvious
The latest LP from New Orleans post-ska sludge rockers Criminal Deportation shows just how far a band can stretch a bad metaphor if they have no taste, no style, and several large stacks of Marshall Amps. "It Pays to be Obvious" showcases the band's unique talents refined over years of swigging warm beer, sucking out the heads of crayfish and dodging rotten veggies in Louisiana's atmosphere heavy dives & honky-tonks. What are those talents, you may ask? My guess is, "staying alive in an environment unsuited to the task".
The first cut, "My Girl and Her Headstone", is a Marshall-amp-heavy rock/polka stomp that decries the depersonalization of love and the skyrocketing cost of moonshine while still managing to get in a dig at war, inflation, gay rights and Dadaism. At least, that was my interpretation of the somewhat obscure lyrics, indifferent beat, incomprehensible melody and intolerable guitar-thrashing.
The rest of the album reprises all the themes explored so eloquently in the first cut without providing any noticeable differentiation between tracks.
Who Might Like It: The deaf. Morons. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.
1 STAR (for the pretty photo on the album cover)
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