Thread #129559504
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ITT: /mu/ in 1987
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Alright, let's get this party started right.
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Don't let the twelve songs, blues moves, or ace Beatle cover fool you--hired song doctors plus horns plus Mellotron adds up to running out of ideas all over again. C
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They were a great live band--probably still are on the right night, and despite the hooks and do-or-die production this still isn't Journey or Starship. But only on "Throwing Stones", about one middle-aged man's fear of love, do they disprove the young naysayers and old fools who've dismissed them as symbols of hippie complacency ever since the '60s. C+
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again?
https://youtu.be/rBGOpuBF0Kg?si=UkSbA1e__yxEdCfF
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>>129559606
>>129559762
We're back and should have all just died in a plane crash in 1980.
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No formal breakthrough, and despite the title/lead/debut single, no social relevance move either, which given the message of "The Cross" (guess, just guess) suits me fine. Merely the most gifted pop musician of his generation proving what a motherfucker he is for two discs start to finish. With helpmate turns from Camille, Susannah, Sheila E., Sheena Easton, he's back to his one-man-band tricks, so collective creation fans should be grateful that at least the second-hottest groove here, after the galvanic "U Got the Look," is Revolution live. Elsewhere Prince-the-rhythm section works on his r&b so Prince-the-harmony-group can show off vocal chops that make Stevie Wonder sound like a struggling ventriloquist. Yet the voices put over real emotions--studio solitude hasn't reactivated his solipsism. The objects of his desire are also objects of interest, affection, and respect. Some of them he may not even fuck. A+
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It kills me to say this, but with Richie or whoever on the lam, Dee Dee moonlighting as a punk-rapper, Joey frequenting all-acoustic showcases, and Johnny Johnny, a great band has finally worn down into a day job for night people. C+
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"Gettin' old as my mother," right on and why not. "Feel more like Big Bill Broonzy," not so fast. For one thing, the Other Beatle should know better than to risk comparison with his betters. For another, he's not ready to settle for Broonzy's audience share. B-
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I had a passing interest in these guys before, but this album is just hit after hit after hit. A little overproduced, but sounds great on my stereo
>>129559522
This is a mistep. One good single and a bunch of forgettable crap. They better come back strong on the next one or im writing this whole band off
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>>129560317
sorry
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sex with lita
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>>129560772
More than you would think.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlCoc_OismQ
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>>129560791
Jump off a cliff, faggot
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>>129560772
>>129560691
Well I hope no boomers were conceived to that song. I hope, anyway.
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I didn't know what sex was at the time, but I loved seeing this whore crawl on all fours towards the fire.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0u8teXR8VE4
The first time I heard this album was in the back of a hot van during the summer. I made it a habit of disappearing to strange places to jerk off. I couldn't stop jerking off throughout the album. Everything about it was pure sex.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTfms73zj2E&list=PLNPGM2D7aODcieTPxwue 0ZjyMRzHRITVK
The first time I saw this video, I thought Axle Rose was a female and masturbated furiously to it. This was my first homosexual experience.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1tj2zJ2Wvg
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>>129559799
filtered
(time traveler post: RIP Billy Steinberg)
https://youtu.be/Q46wIqS7SNY?si=bYWnL-EuHzKZVHSs
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>>129561771
its that old?
jesus
also, wtf is this shit?
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It's a mug's game to deny the technical facility claimed by one-upping crits and young victims of testosterone poisoning--not only does Axl cruise where other "hard rock" singers strive, but he has a knack for believability, which in this genre is the most technical matter of all. When he melds scream and croon on the big-beat ballad, you understand why some confused young thing in an uplift bra is sure it's love sweet love. But Axl is a sucker for dark romantic abstractions--he doesn't love Night Train, he loves alcoholism. And once that sweet child o' his proves her devotion by sucking his cock for the portacam, the evil slut is ready for "See me hit you you fall down." B-
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Anybody who charges studio hackery is too narrow-minded to be able to hear pros out-doing themselves. Studio mastery is more like it, the strongest and most consistent black pop album in years, defining Jam & Lewis's revamp of Baby Sis as the mainstream and then inundating it in rhythmic and vocal power. But what made Thriller a miracle wasn't consistency--it was genius like "Beat It" and "Billie Jean" and the unknowable allure of the pure star. The closest thing to genius here is the CD-only "Leave Me Alone," which isn't all that close and also suggests what's happened to his allure--the more knowable he gets, the more fucked up he seems. This is a record that damn near wrecks perfectly good dancin' and singin' with subtext. He's against burglary, speeding, and sex ("Dirty Diana" is as misogynistic as any piece of metal suck-my-cock), in favor of harmonic convergence and changing the world by changing the man in the mirror. His ideal African comes from Liberia. And he claims moonwalking makes him a righteous brother. Like shit. B+
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You know about the music and if you don't think you'll like it you won't--impeccable pop-metal of no discernible content, completely irrelevant to everyone except AOR programmers and the several million addicts of the genre. In short, it's product but it's interesting product because it's conceived for the CD age. Stuck with over two hours of material after four years (how long can twelve songs be?) and being astute technocrats who've conceived for hour-long formats, namely cassettes, which outsell vinyl discs now, and CDs, which out-dollar them, they've elected to put it all on a single album. I find the cassette sound a little dim as commercial cassette sound tends to be, and while I do prefer the vinyl's depth once I've cranked my stereo up to an 8 or 9, the CD's clarity comes through decisively as the needle approaches the outgroove. I mean, I have trouble seeing these guys as human under normal circumstances. Not docked a notch for not padding it into a double. C+
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>>129562597
you want this one for '87
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Holy shit
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wtf is this
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Let it build and ebb and wash and thunder in the background and you'll hear something special--mournful and passionate, stately and involved. Read the lyrics and you won't wince. Tune in Bono's vocals and you'll encounter one of the worst cases of significance ever to afflict a deserving candidate for superstardom. B
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You'd never know Ann Wilson was riding the catchy intricacies of hired songwriting unless you listened more carefully than the resulting trifles deserve or her relentless overkill permits. And although the camp follower in me is sometimes tickled by the mismatch, it was the professional in me who noticed it. Only in the title cut, where a failed opera singer throws down the gauntlet for the heavy metal boors she's sworn to defend, does the end justify the means. C
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AotY
BotY
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>>129565880
he had nothing to do with them
>>129565933
that song is about the manager of Mother Love Bone
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPUfVN0w7yM
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The attraction of this veteran pop-metal has got to be total predictability. The glistening solos, the surging crescendos, the familiar macho love rhymes, the tunes you can hum before the verse is over--not one heard before, yet every one somehow known. Who cares if they're an obscure nine-year-old vehicle for the guy who took over Deep Purple's vocal chores five years before that? Rock and roll's ninth or tenth "generation" of terrified high-school boys can call them their own. And may they pass from the ether before the eleven-year-olds who are just now sprouting pubic hair claim their MTV. D+
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Their commercial breakthrough eschews escapism without surrendering structural obliqueness, and after six years of mushmouth I wouldn't have thought it possible either. Maybe they finally figured out that intelligibility doesn't equal closure (can't, actually). Or maybe they just wanted to make sure everyone knew how pissed off they were. In any case, these dreamsongs are nightmares of a world in flames, the kind you remember in all their scary inconsistency because you woke up sweating in the middle. How it will all end I couldn't say, but it's a healthy sign that their discovery of the outside world has sharpened their sense of humor along with everything else. Inspirational Title: "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)." A
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>>129566343
>>129566284
Guarantee you nobody who listened to these bands ever had sex.
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>>129566476
Their frontman sure is. Unfortunately.
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The first live album by the Northeast's finest road band stands a chance of showing the rest of the world what it's been missing. It also runs the risk of revealing how the rest of the world managed to stay away. Face it, fans--expecting the same old unexpected can deaden the synapses too, and 20 years can put the snazziest key changes and time signatures in a rut. One set, no song list, audience all unawares, hot-cha-cha. B
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We have U2 down under
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He grooves his overpaid pickup band, he tells Jeff Beck what to do, he writes love songs for every occasion, he doesn't even over-sing much--in short, he realizes his solo move, which beats botching it if only because the sound of a plutocrat's desperation is such an awful thing. But when I realized that "Let's Work" was no metaphor--that it was the plutocrat importuning his lessers to "kill poverty" from the bootstraps up--somehow I stopped worrying whether his "life is trivialized." Your choice, mister--you live with it. B-
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>>129559606
real ones know Magic Touch, Simoriah, and the title track are Aerosmith's best songs
it's 1987 right now. Robocop and The Living Daylights are in theaters, Married With Children and Roseanne are beginning, The Simpsons is debuting on Tracey Ullman, and the songs in the top 40 are better than any indie/alternative coming out this year.
The mainstream is at its peak. We should trust our overlords for now.
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>>129566903
>>129566999
When the Stones were broken up, also Keef's band X-Pensive Winos did tour in the major markets because they weren't chickenshits like Mick was.
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Anyone heard this fresh new sound?
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3KL9IrcxJA&
>>129567729
is that like Teddy Ruxpin?
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No one makes good music like this anymore. Music is dead
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1GxjzHm5us
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkbAMUo6VNA
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>>129559504
FREDDIE’S GOT AIDS!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oy-F2CXsqTk
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Duke bros! They're back!
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Natalie Merchant's nasal art-folk drawl isn't altogether intolerable, and her "Peace Train" cover sets up dippier expectations than her new lyrics deserve. Signalling her professionalism by deprivatizing her metaphors, she actually says something about illiteracy, today's army, and cruelty to children. In private, however, she remains a Cat Stevens fan with a nasal art-folk drawl. B-
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Where Nebraska was plunged in a social despair he never quite made his own, this companion piece comes out of personal compulsion. By depicting the fear of commitment as sheer terror, he does the impossible: renews L-O-V-E as pop subject. First side's got distance, bravado, optimism, even a joke, but then comes one long deep look inside, so well-observed that he seems neither self-pitying nor self-important, just a decent guy with a realistic understanding of his major but not insoluble emotional problems. And although the format is almost as spare as Nebraska's, the man has worked on his sense of rhythm the way he's worked on his marriage, which means he's pleasing to hear with just a drummer or alone. Next thing you know he'll learn to dance. A
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Finally, an album worthy of their tuning system, and no, it's not like they've suddenly started to write tight or see a shrink. All they cop to is making their bullshit signify, which means keeping a distance from the insanity they find so sexy and not letting their slack-jawed musings drone on too long. Hence, those with more moderate tastes have space to feel the buzz and a chance to go on to something else before boredom sets in. With the California punk cover acknowledging their debts and the bow to coherent content safeguarding against that empty feeling, their chief pleasure, as always, is formal--a guitar sound almost unique in its capacity to evoke rock and roll without implicating them in a history few youngish bands can bear up under these days. A
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As with Mick Jagger, of all people, the signal that self-imitation has sunk into self-parody is enunciatory ennui--vocal mannerisms that were once ur-posh are now just complacent. Except for the Parisian title tune the second side is unlistenable. The first side is faster. C+
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>>129567586
I'm more of a Phuture and Tony Terry guy myself.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igNBeo3QSqc
https://youtu.be/y5ylbwgsC5s
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The title cut, in which the lead singer is so decadent as to copulate with a woman, is almost as sexist as the rape fantasy on the cover of Roger Waters's The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, while "Dogs of War", i.d.-ed with blues bottom, could just as easily be the tin soldiers of Waters's The Final Cut. In short you'd never notice the group's conceptmaster was gone, except that they put out noticeably fewer ideas. C
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24
HOUR
PARTY
PEOPLE
https://youtu.be/N7sa9r0mvBs
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The matriarch of jazz scene tourism lives. Title song might (emphasis on might) have been cute in 1952. Now though...
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Though Bernard Edwards has his name on three cuts out of nine, including the definitively cock-crazy "Love Injection," you know why former Prince lackey Andre Cymone wanted sole production credit. This is his revenge--a made-to-order dance-rock sex object with better credentials than Sheila E. herself. I have nothing against women pretending they want to go to bed with me. But I found it easier to pretend I wanted to go to bed with the disgruntled former Shalamar associate when she played the flirt. C+
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This which-one-had-the-baby mother-and-daughter act was cute for about fifteen minutes. They've long since revealed themselves as neotraditionalism's most shameless nostalgia pimps, and the only way their sexual politics could get more disgusting is if their songwriters slipped them wife-swapping jokes. To honor this achievement, their label herewith institutes a nine-track limit for country LPs. I remember when twelve down to eleven was a scandal, and submit that in this case like so many others zero might be a more socially responsible target. C
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>>129570717
>>129570613
He was a has-been well past his time by the time he moved into metal territory but the classic 70s AC was theatrical hard rock not metal.
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>>129570739
he talked about this in interviews, he had not been metal until Constrictor but it kind of happened that way since so many of the 80s metal bands had been fans of him as kids and he influenced a lot of the metal scene aesthetically if not musically.
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>>129566476
Put on some good headphones or earbuds and go listen to the opening of Mitzi Dupree. That is a killer guitar sound IMO.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DSVXzSMm__A
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It takes more than unsullied venality and the will to power to reign as the most revolting pop singer in Christendom. It takes active aesthetic miscalculation and, truth be told, more than a little luck. Like falling into the lame dance grooves of Jermaine Jackson and the odious megaschlock of Michael Masser, with Narada Michael Walden limited to "How Will I Know"--which becomes your breakthrough song as well as the only critically forgivable thing on your best-selling debut album in history. So this time Walden gets seven shots, with Masser down to two and Jermaine returned to the bosom of his family, and the results are forgivable--she does have a good voice, you know. C+
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The autobiography of a loose cannon starts things off with a bang, proving once and for all that this furriner should volunteer his literary services to the Central Intelligence Agency, where surrealistic inconsistency and casual racism are hallmarks of every cover story. Then there are the reflections on liberty (war?) and fashion (terrorism?) and a heroine from that bygone epoch when dusky-skinned peoples had natural nobility going for them. After which he turns the record over to riff on "Too lonely to fall in love" and toss off some mournful tunes and get his garage band to caterwaul "That's why we don't want to be good." Make no mistake, there's plenty of life left in the son of a bitch. Which should surprise no one who believes it. B
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It may seem redundant to accuse a rapper of arrogance, like accusing a politician of seeking power, but Chuck D takes the bully-boy orotundity of his school of rap elocution into a realm of vocal self-involvement worthy of Pavarotti, Steve Perry, or the preacher at a Richard Pryor funeral. And while I know the idea is to play him off the wheedling motor-mouth of his boy Flavor-Flav, why should I like the great man's fan any more than I like the great man? They've got literary chops--amid puns more Elvis Costello than Peter Tosh, their "Megablast" is cutting anticrack narrative-propaganda--and they make something personal of rap's ranking minimalist groove. But there's no fun in these guys, which given the intrinsic austerity of the groove means not much generosity either. B+
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Having conquered my wimpophobia to where I reflexively enjoy the supple smarts of their sound, I bore down anticipating even tastier goodies, and now I must face facts. In three of these songs somebody's dead or dying, in three more somebody contemplates murder, and in the rest somebody's in a selfish pet of the sort that led to the aforementioned threats. So the liveliest tracks are where somebody's dead or dying: AIDS song, biz song, song about how selfish and petty you feel when somebody you've raged at actually dies. B
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Samey samey samey is the strategy--repeat repeat repeat repeat the same four-bar theme for sixteen, twenty-four, forty-eight, sixty-four bars before Robert Smith starts to whine, wail, warble, work. Because Smith hasn't veered this far pop since he was a boy, most of the themes stick with you, and in a few cases--my pick is "Just Like Heaven," which gets off to a relatively quick start--his romantic vagaries have universal potential. But especially over a double album, the strategy gets pretty tedious unless Smith happens to be whining, wailing, warbling, or working to you. B
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Supposedly, these glammers are the plastic (isn't that the term?) Aerosmith rip, as opposed to the authentically (right?) nasty boys in Guns N' Roses. They sure do mow down their allotted share of dynamite riffs on side one, though--fit right onto Toys in the Attic. And if side two is pretty generic, it's only a rip, its meaner impulses undercut by Russ Meyer camp. B
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Fifteen years ago, when their secret weapon was someone named Bob Welch, they made slick, spacy, steady-bottomed pop that was a little ahead of the times commercially. Now, when their secret weapon is their public, they make slick, spacy, steady-bottomed pop that's a little behind the times commercially. This is pleasant stuff, nothing to get exercised about either way--no Rumours or Fleetwood Mac, but better than Bare Trees or Mystery to Me, not to mention Mirage. Marginally better, anyway. In a style where margins are all. And all ain't all that much any more. B+
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As sheer aural sensation, this may be PIL's best, synthesizing the deep dubwise pessimism of The Metal Box with the sharp studiowise pessimism of Album. But as total experience, it's product. My favorite line was "We want your money" until I realized it really went "We want your body"--another antisex rant, jeeze. Transcending John's unwavering self-regard is "Fat Chance Motel," a definitive piece of aural sensation apparently conceived during a desert vacation he apparently didn't enjoy. B
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Maybe he's lost touch so completely that he's reduced to cannibalizing himself just when the market dictates the most drastic image shift of his chameleon career. But maybe this is just his way of melding two au courant concepts, Springsteenian rock and multiproducer crossover. After all, why pay good money to outsiders when your own trunk of disguises is there for the rummaging? Of course, crossover artistes can generally sing. When Bowie wants to play the vocalist, he still puts on a bad Anthony Newley imitation. C+
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People think there's something cute about this schemer, but I ask you--is it really possible to be a self-made millionaire and the girl next door simultaneously? I'll take a Harvard M.B.A. any day. Paul Anka wrote his own songs too, and he had more of a flair for language. As for beats, well, I'm not going to argue with "Only in My Dreams" or "Shake Your Love." But the one she produced by herself is a flat-out dog. C+
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The latest guitar god calls up keywords like "taste" and "musicality" rather than "flash" and "heavy"--not only does he write melodies (and countermelodies), he fuckin edits them. Thus he delivers both the prowess cultists demand and the comfort they secretly crave. That it surprises him to hear the result behind insurance commercials only goes to show how little guitar gods know of the world. C+
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Title tune's supposed to be the great Beatles rip, and it is, though the jokes wear thin pretty quick. Band's supposed to be smart metal, which given their Queens roots and "Hava Negillah" rip probably just means they're Jewish. B-