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Rating:
More than once, during my cyclical periods of obsessive-compulsive idleness, I asked myself what adjective could best describe the garage sound. Adjectives like rough, primal, dirty, essential seemed too "sophisticated," and I was looking for something truly minimalistic, understandable even to a Cro-Magnon man, to make it clear. Then one day, during an extremely boring work meeting at the shopping center where I work, while the director, an Italiota clichéd force, was uttering the company Gospel, with as many bold (for him) as pathetic (for me) soccer metaphors off decree, I had an epiphany. When the bald-ex-caramba director questioned us lowly subordinates (with the air of someone who knows all about life, the universe, and everything), regarding the definition of "work efficacy," I found myself humming "Not A Problem" by Black Lips.
"Incredible! What better adjective than 'effective' to describe the garage sound! Maximum result with minimal effort!" I thought. And by responding this way to the premier's mimic, I solved a long-standing dilemma, managed to exit the catatonic state caused by the company meeting (madonna, as if we were the managerial board of Toyota), and elicited a look from the director that was somewhere between amazed and disdainful.
Obviously, what I said has little or nothing to do with the Black Lips, four truly crazy post-adolescents, except that the garage they play is the most minimal and effective I've heard these days. So proud and self-referential that I feel like kissing them on the mouth.
This third album achieves the maximum sound yield with the minimum of technical abilities: two chords, a hoarse voice, lo-fi recording, and songs that engrave themselves deep in the cerebral cortex. If "Can't Dance" harks back to early punk (like Dead Boys), "Take Me Home (Back To Boone)", "Boomerang", "Fairy Stories", or "Everybody's Doin' It" seem like outtakes from some volume of "Back From The Grave". The pseudo ballads are also wonderful: the psychedelic "Hippie, Hippie, Hoorah", partly sung in a demented middle school French, a love song that couldn’t be more sleazy ("Dirty Hands"), and "Feeling Gay", whose name says it all.
An album and a band to be used as an excellent antidote against pretentious music and clichéd directors.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
03 Boomerang (02:05)
If then I'll have it like a boomerang
I had all my karma and it all came back to me
Thrown farther than eyes could see
If I had it like a boomerang
Thrown farther than eyes could see
Id have all my karma coming back to me
Back to me
Back to me
Back to me
If I had all my problems and they all came back to me
then I'll have it like a boomerang
Thrown farther than eyes could see
If I had it like a boomerang
Thrown farther than eyes could see
Id have all my karma coming back to me
Back to me
Back to me
Back to me
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