Goblin Cock
Come With Me If You Want To Live

The importance of being Rob Crow: part 3

And here we are at the final chapter of our summer trilogy. The one with a smile or, better said, the smirk on our lips. For one reason or another, albeit in different ways each time, that furry Rob Crow had the chance to showcase his love for heavy music: sure, maybe less than other genres, but a touch of heavy in his style's amalgam - and thus in his personal style - was something he never refused. So, question: can a showman like him ever remain always ablaze with citations, with ideas, without getting bored and pulling off something big just for the sake of tribute? Of course not. Raise the curtain, then, on Goblin Cock, the darkest and slimiest creation of our favorite nerd.

"Bagged And Boarded", their 2005 debut, had already hinted that Crow's overall intention went far beyond a mere "evil" side-project. "Come With Me If You Want To Live", a follow-up released at a perfectly Olympic interval, does nothing but confirm the value of the vision the guitarist brings, who, for the occasion, renames himself Lord Phallus (after all, how else could the leader of such a band be named?!?) and surrounds himself with five other members, each adorned with improbable nicknames, across drums, bass, guitars, and keyboards. This setup is a clear joke: the fusion of the most abject metal clichés for an approach that is clearly playful and irreverent, but never devoid of a certain respect for the sacred names and untouchable deities. With a middle finger to black metal, dressed like Sunn O))) (black tunics with hooded faces), the guys compile ten tracks that lean mostly towards a dynamic yet minimally psychedelic stoner, rocky but not psychedelic, not at all original but full of interesting cues, demonstrating the breadth of views of the musicians involved here.

Taken as it presents itself, namely a pure and hard divertissement (residents of Pontida should stay away), the album is one of the best parodies heard in recent times. What surprises, however, is realizing how the entire structure stands on its own two feet even outside a playful context. Goblin Cock steal from one place and barter from another, in a continuous, irreverent chase to celebrate, and amidst laughter and banter (indeed), they string together a series of scraping riffs, gripping like little children and refusing to let go under any condition. It's lovely to hear a short acoustic instrumental ("Hissless") abruptly collapsed by thunderous noises - Slayer maybe? - closed by a deadly press like "Loch", as if Matt Pike finally went to singing lessons carrying "Welcome To The Sky Valley". "We've Got A Bleeder" rides a powerful rhythmic wave and for a moment it seems almost serious, if it weren't for the fact that... Big laughs and a satisfactory reward in music incoming. Elsewhere, there's less laughter, like on "Haint", leaving a sedate piece, with an unnecessary wall of guitars, which boldly unmasks the deception and reveals Crow's double identity as an employee in Pinback's alt-pop factory - the vocal timbre, for those who know the band, unmistakable!

Very little is truly wrong, summing things up, and even faced with tracks like "Big Up Your Willies" – distortions filled with fuzz where a hilarious vocoder suddenly appears –, the bombastic "Mylar", perfect for a twee chant if only for the scorching guitars in the background, and the exultation of the brief "Trying To Get Along With Humans", practically Motörhead shredding Masters Of Reality, one can only take each other's hands and go round in circles, headbanging at the same time. An image at least curious, yet it fits well even for the less successful episodes like "Ode To Billy Jack", too static and dragging as a whole.

And then, folks: find me another band that titles a track "Beneath The Valley Of The Island Of Misfit Toys" and we can talk about it again! With faces covered, mind you. Half a point more than what was awarded.