Guttermouth
Shave the Planet

THE REVIEW

"Ten albums later, we're still punk." This is the new motto of the legendary Guttermouth. They’ve hit 18 years of activity; 18 years of lows and lows, alas, in which they have only sold themselves to their music and their not very numerous fans, "but they don't care that much." As is quite evident, this motto is dedicated to their tenth album: Shave the Planet. But there's a problem: this album does not deserve all this publicity. If in their career, Guttermouth have always alternated between excellent albums and downright terrible ones, this here clearly falls into the latter.

Perhaps a vain attempt to adapt to commercial pop punk, Shave the Planet is neither fish nor fowl. What's the most appropriate term to describe it? Awful! Indeed, it sounds like the conclusion of a process started years earlier, that is, the transition from charismatic and comedic to ridiculous and pathetic. The "once nimble, now blatantly banal" voice of Adkins poisons the sonic fabric of each track, making it raw and unbearable. Weinrich's bass, in turn, comes in out of place and proves invasive, Shave the Planet, My Chemical Imbalance and let's stop there. Only the cardboard box style drumming in the style of James Nunn in Ryan Farrell's Musical Monkey seems to have remained chaste, pure, and immaculate, and the rare guitar prowess of old dear Scott Sheldon, "here accompanied by Donald Horne," is surprisingly noticeable in the thrash of The 23 Things that Rhyme With Darby Crash. In this second-hand album, "a sort of St. Anger," speed, exaggeration, and the classic roguish spirit no longer reign, but seemingly successful experiments, "Primate Camp," and some attempts to emulate 70s hard rock, AC/DC style "What Then."

However, the whole album is marred by a genuine Punk Rock, very hard but sometimes predictable. The potential to produce albums like Musical Monkey and Gorgeous is there, but it remains to be avoided if you don't love and don't know them.

It doesn't engage.