Wednesday, June 08, 2005
"SEX IS A WEAPON" BY (RETARDS)
This review has been a long time in the making. I’ve had too long to think about it and it’s got the point where I am unable to say anything right. I have to write something and I want to scream with wild, carefree abandon and see what ends up on the page but that’ll never happen. So, do excuse me whilst I muse about (retards) in a way which does not do them justice…(!!!)
(retards) are, in their own words:
"Frank Osterflood: Feedback from stringed instruments, tin whistle, melodica, xylophone and some shouting.
Marshall Applewhite: Shouting, playing with oscillators and Dr. Robotnik’s rhythm machine.
John Wayne: Banging things with sticks."
(retards) are like all of your current favourite bands from the West coast of the USA in that they are hardcore and post-punk influenced (I guess), electronic, shouty, haunting, and smart. (retards) are not from the USA though, they are from Dublin. Dublin is in Ireland.
Their songs contain expletives and rude tales which will always float my boat since I am amused by the mere mention of breasts, let alone stories about feeling disgraced because of shagging 12 year olds by accident (in U-16 Whores).
Different ideas (centred around sex as a broad theme) are explored in the lyrics, from dancing (in Who’s Laughing Now (You’re Crippled)) to rape (He Put Something In My Drink) and weirdo masochism (Chinese Girl In My Truck), but the music itself makes everything seem brutal, unforgiving and unsatisfying.
To play these repetitive little riffs (whether synthesised, played through a whistle or xylophone, or with “stringed instruments”) would be like gritting your teeth and scratching an itch that just won’t go away. Pretentious journalism aside, there is something just so wonderfully frustrating about listening to this album. I like the sound of it, but the sound is alien and the vocals frightening.
Considering all this, imagine my shock and horror at learning that they wear funny costumes on stage. I’d probably shit myself.
Highlights:
1. I got excited when in Michael Caine the words (yes you guessed it) “Michael Caine” are screamed over and over until “The meek shall inherit the earth! Six Foot by Four!” is screamed in a call and response post-DC style.
2. An exception to the rule of torturing, haunting sounds is the marvellous instrumental trackette, (retards) Abroad, which sounds like it’s played on a kids piano and xylophone and is only barely touched with distortion and scariness.
3. Their cover of And Then He Kissed Me which was originally by The Crystals (?) sung by a distorted male voice is perfect and, yet again, haunting, with an acoustic guitar (scratchily strummed) providing the backing until it melts down and collapses at the end.
The excessive use of brackets in this piece was not intended to be a joke.
(retards) are, in their own words:
"Frank Osterflood: Feedback from stringed instruments, tin whistle, melodica, xylophone and some shouting.
Marshall Applewhite: Shouting, playing with oscillators and Dr. Robotnik’s rhythm machine.
John Wayne: Banging things with sticks."
(retards) are like all of your current favourite bands from the West coast of the USA in that they are hardcore and post-punk influenced (I guess), electronic, shouty, haunting, and smart. (retards) are not from the USA though, they are from Dublin. Dublin is in Ireland.
Their songs contain expletives and rude tales which will always float my boat since I am amused by the mere mention of breasts, let alone stories about feeling disgraced because of shagging 12 year olds by accident (in U-16 Whores).
Different ideas (centred around sex as a broad theme) are explored in the lyrics, from dancing (in Who’s Laughing Now (You’re Crippled)) to rape (He Put Something In My Drink) and weirdo masochism (Chinese Girl In My Truck), but the music itself makes everything seem brutal, unforgiving and unsatisfying.
To play these repetitive little riffs (whether synthesised, played through a whistle or xylophone, or with “stringed instruments”) would be like gritting your teeth and scratching an itch that just won’t go away. Pretentious journalism aside, there is something just so wonderfully frustrating about listening to this album. I like the sound of it, but the sound is alien and the vocals frightening.
Considering all this, imagine my shock and horror at learning that they wear funny costumes on stage. I’d probably shit myself.
Highlights:
1. I got excited when in Michael Caine the words (yes you guessed it) “Michael Caine” are screamed over and over until “The meek shall inherit the earth! Six Foot by Four!” is screamed in a call and response post-DC style.
2. An exception to the rule of torturing, haunting sounds is the marvellous instrumental trackette, (retards) Abroad, which sounds like it’s played on a kids piano and xylophone and is only barely touched with distortion and scariness.
3. Their cover of And Then He Kissed Me which was originally by The Crystals (?) sung by a distorted male voice is perfect and, yet again, haunting, with an acoustic guitar (scratchily strummed) providing the backing until it melts down and collapses at the end.
The excessive use of brackets in this piece was not intended to be a joke.
// posted by laura wolf @ 5:15 PM 
