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Rating: nineteeneightyfive. Subterranean Homesick Rock.
From the basements of the worst American radio station, ladies and gentlemen, Naked Raygun with “Throb Throb”. This album is the ideal soundtrack for all D. F. Wallace followers who are about to read "La ragazza dai capelli strani" on an East Coast highway, aboard a fake-real yellow taxi. Jeff Pezzati getting stuck in mc virtuosities with the grace of a delightful fly girl. Corroding it all, more than this punk orchestra - not - diet already does. Metastasis - crazy garage rock. Pure frenzy follows piece after piece. In the classic one-three minute formula. Leeches: a raw and jarring bee bop that grafts onto a funky-punk viola. Then you realize it's a bass, very swingy, but definitely a bass, with all the poetry the circumstance requires. A sarcastic and fake-patriotic sax from the fourth of July mocks the fm riff of Only in America. Everything that “Very Ape” by Nirvana claimed to be. Or perhaps the record Kurt Cobain would have composed after yet another generous sip of barium. In memory of the old times.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
04 Metastasis (02:24)
I am a featus
I am a tumor
I am the local slime mold
I am a pupa
I am a larva
I am a Emperor Tojo
Metatastisize
Metatastisize
I am a lizard
I am a nymph
I am a three-toed gecko
07 I Don't Know (03:29)
Listen now to what I say
About the kids of today
Subscribe to them all your fears
'Til they become like you
What poor gods we do make (x4)
I don't know (x4)
So listen now to what I say
About the kids of today
Subscribe to them all your fears
'Til they become like you
Teach them all your fallacies
Contain them in reality
Subscribe to them all your fears
'Til they become like you
Then a slippage happens
In your rankes
And causes all... your morals sank
For us to create our own
And we became like you
What poor gods we do make
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