The Shadowy Mens' day job of writing incidental pieces for the television show "Kids In The Hall" has its
side effects; on the good side, they're a trio of radiantly versatile musicians, crafting tiny musical snippets
into narrative tales. On the not-so-swell side, they can get derivative, although more often than not it works
in their favor - what they may lack in innovation, they make up for in seamless consistency and bucketsful of
skewed humor. A sideways case is "We're Not A Fucking Surf Band," a 26-second bit of jagged, pseudo-art rock
that trips capriciously into "Peas Porridge Rock," a near verbatim reworking of the Bel-Air's "Mr. Moto."Beyong that, though, this is a sunny summer record, with some inspiring high points - a bolt-tight studio version of "They Don't Call Them Chihuahuas Anymore," the shuffling split-level sunset-postcard "Honey, You're Wasting Ammo" and the triskadekaphobically unlisted "Mecca," a sizzling high-speed guitar chase that overcomes all this verbose persnicketry and simply clamps down hard on the Rock.
Back To The Words Page