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To all enthusiasts of bizarre and out-of-this-world rock sounds, I highly recommend listening to these Weegs, a delightful group of merry pranksters who could be compared, of course with due proportions, to an indie-rock version of the legendary Residents (whom I sincerely hope require no introduction).
Already with the title of their debut (with more garage tones) Meat the Weegs, they amused themselves by referencing the enigmatic new wave entity from San Francisco; and even the shady figures on the cover of this second release somewhat resemble the legendary eyeballs, though they seem to decompose, lost in some alien, desolate land. For those who decide to immerse themselves in the madness of this work, eight tracks of remarkable frenetic and schizoid rock and roll await, blending indie with the most extreme no-wave with nonchalance, achieving the difficult feat of sounding both disorienting and catchy; resulting, I dare say, even catchy and fun. Then, in the ninth and final track, our group loses all decorum and remaining glimmer of sanity. While before, our entertainers might still have seemed like individuals perhaps a bit eccentric but ultimately harmless and even amusing, here they drop their masks to reveal themselves as the homicidal lunatics they truly are: we and the music are the intended victims. Indeed, it will be difficult to survive the 45(!) minutes of pure nonsense to which we will be subjected, with more or less arbitrary noises that blend together without restraint or inhibition, copulating in a kind of orgiastic cacophonic jam at leisure. The music at least emerges more dead than God after Nietzsche's passage. Depending on your mental health state and level of sanity at the moment of listening, you might find the track as the most successful of the batch or as a jovial slap to the backside (I honestly skip it 99% of the time, but occasionally listen to it during those rare sleepy moments before bedtime, and in those rare occasions it was pleasantly mind-bending).
That said, at least limiting to the other tracks, the record will prove to be an excellent interlude in that absurd tragicomedy we call life, a pleasant pastime to listen to and re-listen to while waiting for Godot.
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