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Rating: The Black Lips are one of the best things that could have happened to today's music scene.
A real relief amidst a slew of fake bands, more focused on rummaging through their closet before a concert rather than checking the proverbial squaring of their testicles. Just take a look at the band's photos inside the booklet to understand: 4 improbable guys, one with the entire upper dental arch in gold, one with glasses recycled from the nerd from Riptide, another with a military tank top, '70s Adidas shorts, and two ridiculous legs. And if that's not enough, take a tour on the Vice Records website and check out the live attitude captured in their last live in Tijuana, or their tour through the streets of Jerusalem, among bewildered rabbis and perplexed Palestinian children. Pure nonsense. So goofy and musically lacking that they bring to mind the mentors of music goofiness: the fake brothers Ramone.
While the Ramones sped up their childhood garage loves, the Black Lips much more modestly simply pay them homage, but thanks to this carefree vein, they manage to be incredibly fresh and fun. The move to Vice, from the widely renowned In The Red, presents us with a band stripped of the rotten and borderline noise elements of their previous works. They haven't obviously become a pop band, but they have certainly broadened the spectrum of their music's audience. And they haven't taken any lessons in their respective instruments. They were and remain unpolished.
So, less of a lo-fi punk approach, replaced by acid injections, like in the reverse guitars of the initial "I Saw A Ghost (Lean)", in the Seedsian reminiscences of "Lock And Key", or in the beastly screams of "Slime & Oxygen". There are, of course, garage pieces of a devastating simplicity ("O Katrina!", "Cold Hands", and "Bad Kids"), but with incredible addictive power, nor are the almost demented experiments missing. "How Do You Tell A Child That Someone Has Died" is precisely what the title foreshadows, to the notes of a country tune complete with slide, "Veni Vidi Vici" mimics Wilson Pickett, "Navajo" is an improbable love story with a squaw, featuring a twangy guitar.
The only fear that grips me is that they might lose their innocent goofy verve, given their recent appearances in the most important musical showcases in America (including Conan O'Brien).
We trust in the infinite power of youthful recklessness, hoping it keeps them far away from the God Dollar.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 O Katrina! (02:50)
O, Katrina! Why you gotta be mean?
You saw a highway down in New Orleans
I can't believe what I saw on the telescreen
O, Katrina! Why could you be so mean?
O, Katrina! (O, Katrina!)
O, Katrina! (O, Katrina!)
O, Katrina! (O, Katrina!)
Why you gotta be mean
(O, Katrina!)
Why you gotta be...
O, Katrina! Why you gotta be mean?
You saw a highway down in New Orleans
I can't believe what I saw on the telescreen
O, Katrina! Why could you be so mean?
O, Katrina! (O, Katrina!)
O, Katrina! (O, Katrina!)
O, Katrina! (O, Katrina!)
Why you gotta be mean?
(O, Katrina!)
Why you gotta be mean now
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