Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.06.2006, Page 24

Fuzzy, pompous, raunchy to
the point of being overbearing
and a dead ringer for a punk
band covering the theme
music to a Gidget movie: Yup,
three more of Jon Spencer’s
disciples have been allowed
to make an album. So, in
other words, if you ever get
sick of listening to The Blues
Explosion, Boss Hog, Pussy
Galore or Heavy Trash, here’s
more of the same, except with
the faintest trace of a Danish
accent. Which is not to say
it’s bad, mind you; after all,
Spencer would never stand
for anything you couldn’t
blast from a car stereo whilst
cruising for sexy chicks
wearing aviators and a bomber
jacket. SE
Powersolo – Egg
Sad, pathetic excuses
for lyrics pockmark this
otherwise smooth ride of
well-written and well-played
folk that is as pleasing to
the ear as it is unlikely to
revisit your memory, never
mind your CD player.
There are moments when it
suddenly seems to amount to
something, but these rarely
last the length of even one
song, and the idea of two
thickset Scotsmen with a Bob
Dylan fixation singing songs
about ‘the tunnel of love’ and
other such bilge is just so
incredibly unappealing that
it’s almost impossible to truly
like this album. SE
Shallow, vacant Swede-indie
that rather reminds one of
the idiotic grin of someone
who has recently inhaled far
too much marijuana, or that
intensely irritating person who
always manages to see the
bright side of anything that
happens. Both of them may
be morons, but at least they
have the right idea. SE
In typically uncreative
fashion, a bunch of classically
schooled musicians have
banded together to perform
their jazzy takes on some
modern poetry: Are you
thrilled yet? Does this
sound like your container of
excrement? Well, guess what,
you dull, tasteless snob...
there’s two whole new CDs of
it! Have fun! SE
Sigurður Flosason og
Kristjana Stefánsdóttir
Hvar Er Tunglið?
THE CHARADE
The Best is Yet to Come
Cheerfully sweet pop only
identifiable as being off-the-
beaten-path by the rough-
hewn production quality and
sometimes obscure subject
matter of the lyrics, this
is a sometimes intolerably
fashionable musical trinket
that rescues itself from avant-
garde lameness by having the
only thing you really need to
make good music: honesty
and the ability to stick to
what it knows, although
some passion would have
been nice as well. Nothing
momentous, but good
nonetheless. I would also
advise them to steer well clear
of allowing Carlos Giffoni to
remix any of their songs in
the future; the remix at the
end is, quite simply, the most
annoying song ever. SE
I fucking swear I’m going
to pull a Tsar Nicholas II
on these indie/lo-fi/folk
motherfuckers soon. I know
exactly how I’m going to do
it, too: I’ll advertise an album
giveaway of rarities by Neil
Young, Nick Drake, Leonard
Cohen and The Velvet
Underground and when a
fair amount of them have
shown up, I’ll just padlock
the door and start shooting.
It doesn’t matter if some of
them couldn’t make it because
they were too busy advertising
themselves on MySpace;
they’ll get the message
and abstain from making
shitbaskets like this in the
future. SE
Kamp Knox
A Tad 65
GRAPEVINE ALBUM REVIEWS
Guide to the rating system:
In prison, you deal in cigarettes. In Iceland, you deal in beers. We don’t condone this, we just
accept it as fact. One beer = 500 ISK at the seedy bars we frequent. That means a mainstream
release costs uo to 2500 ISK... or $40. Yes that much. That’s why we do the beer thing.
Worth four beers.
Worth two beers.
Worth three beers.
Worthless. Worth two beers. Worthless.
The Beasties – The Beasties Poachers Too – As in Also
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