Reality is, as far as I can tell, neither sweet or painful. Some say it's trombone-flavoured, others say it settles around one like a carelessly thrown toolbox with a miasma of a wet Wednesday in Barnstaple.
What this CD is, or certainly appears to be to my aged ears, is a careful re-invention of all of Whitesnake's less cock-rock moments. Now, if you're the sort of goff who discovered metal first, that's probably a good thing as far as your concerned and you can skip the rest of this (probably hysterical yet mildly entertaining) review and just dig out the contact information at the bottom.
Right, now the rockers have gone, I can say this without being glared at: Bloody metal. Bloody BLOODY metal. Horrible, gormless, formulaic, widdly-widdly guitar-solo, unaware, unironic, tediously bloody earnest, down-with-the-kids (yeah, riiight) CACK!
See, until the bloody Mish or the bloody Neff pitched up, goff was firmly rooted in post-punk with regular and entertaining diversions into the drug-filled funhouse that belonged to the Stooges. Yes, bands like Skeletal Family were seen to be wearing bullet-belts, but they were using them to hold up skin-tight bleached jeans which were as likely to be seen keeping yer average psychobilly's legs warm.
Metal was this... Other stuff that I was forced to listen to. Imagine, if you can stand it, a small town with a set of trendy-clubs that required a dress-code of loafers, slacks and a shirt with a collar. The one non-trendy place to go after the pub shut on a Friday or Saturday night was a shitey metal 'nite' where you were served watered-down lager as the hopelessly knackered PA terminally buggered your hearing with horrible, anodyne mid-80s rawk of the spandex-betrousered variety. If there was anything guaranteed to make anyone with more than half a brain and an unhinged record-collection take a firm and permanent dislike to anything even vaguely metallic, that would be it. It would be no great surprise to anyone, then, that after viewing The Neff in 1990 I abandoned goff for the infinitely more tuneful land of Bonkers Techno.
Anyway. Envy. Interesting logo. Reminds me of an old National Semiconductor example. Music? Mid-80's metallurgy in the introspective manner, though the drums are late-model Kerrang-TV-style firmly walloped cardboard box, rather than the reverb-heavy examples of yore. (Born in the USA for example.)
I should point out that the sleevenotes finish with this: 'And finally to Jan, Chelsea, Heidi, Amanda and all the other females whom I've failed, and who have failed me, for taking my confidence, destroying my self-worth, and thereby inspiring me to create this album. Thank you.'
Thing one: Were I one of the four named (presumably ex-girlfriends) I'd not be best impressed by said display of Passive-Aggressive behaviour.
Thing two: Dude. Grow A Bloody Spine.
Post: 10671 Hwy 73, Conifer, CO, 80433, USA