Chumbawamba

WHAT YOU KNOW THEM FOR: Frat boy empowerment!




BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

“Tubthumping” begins with a monologue from Pete Postlethwaite’s character in the movie Brassed Off. The only two things I remember about the film are this speech and the fact that Tara Fitzgerald did not show her boobs. And the only reason I watched the movie in the first place was in the hopes that Tara Fitzgerald would show her boobs. I’m not sure why I thought it would be a possibility in the first place, but at least she showed them in Sirens, so it’s all good.

“Tubthumping” is a perfect frat boy anthem with lyrics about drinking and an easy sing-a-long chorus. They’ve probably never paid any attention to the rest of the album, hell, they probably only have it on a Jock Jams CD anyway. Yet, Chumbawamba is actually an anarcho-punk band, whose first album was titled Pictures Of Starving Children Sell Records. That fact has always made me want to check out something other than that insufferable hit, and this blog has given me an excuse to do so.

“Amnesia” has a fun riff with an okay melody. It’s not a terrible song, but I’ll probably forget it. Pun not intended. The opening drum shuffle of “Drip, Drip, Drip” made me think we were in for a cover of blink 182’s “I Miss You,” but what follows is even more insipid. Though, if Architecture In Helsinki did it, I’d probably think it was awesome. Am I hating Chumbawamba for the sake of hating Chumbawamba?

Actually, remove the pure bile that is “Tubthumping,” and you’ve got the best Architecture In Helsinki album that was recorded before Architecture In Helsinki existed. I never thought I’d be comparing Chumbawamba to one of my favorite bands in a positive light.

“The Good Ship Lifestyle” rocks and should’ve been their hit single. Damn you, Chumbawamba. I can no longer use you as a punchline for bad music. I can still use you as a punchline for bad names, though.


FINAL VERDICT: With their anarchistic leanings, Chumbawamba have publicly stated that they want you to shoplift their album. So objectively speaking, if you bought this album, you’re an idiot. But if you happen to find a record store that still stocks it, feel free to steal it. Just kidding. You won’t find any record stores out there. Download Tubthumper. Illegally. The band wants you to.

Right Said Fred

WHAT YOU KNOW THEM FOR: Dangerous levels of sexiness.





BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

Did you know that Right Said Fred aren’t actually one hit wonders? They’ve had several songs hit the charts, particularly in the UK. And Germany. They love more than just David Hasselhoff over there. Syrian president Bashar al-Assad is also a huge fan. So if you had any sort of integrity, you’d stop referring to RSF as a one hit wonder.

Luckily, I have no integrity, so let’s hit the catwalk.

The first two tracks don’t have the novelty feel of “I’m Too Sexy” and frontman Richard Fairbrass actually croons over some chillax dance beats. Does anyone say “chillax” anymore? Fuck it, I do. Then we get the slice of heaven that is “I’m Too Sexy,” which starts to feel like an anomaly when it’s followed by more crooning and sultry female backup singers.

“Is It True About Love” sounds like the type of song ravers would have sex to. I’m guessing. I’ve never had sex with a raver. When “Deeply Dippy” started, at first, I thought we were in for a cover of The Proclaimers’ “500 Miles.” It isn’t, but now I wish some dance act would cover that song. This song is hella fun, though. Does anyone say “hella” anymore? Fuck it, I do. The fact that “Deeply Dippy” wasn’t a US hit has made me lose faith in the American people.

Ditto “Don’t Talk Just Kiss,” which even the Dutch had the good sense to make a Top 10 hit. The album even ends on a catchy “la la la” singalong. I thought I was going to have to renounce my American citizenship and move out of the country once Herr Trump was elected dictator. But I might just have to do that now instead, upon seeing the unfair treatment we have given Right Said Fred.


FINAL VERDICT: I have to go pack my bags. Call me when the overdue RSF revival happens.

Edwyn Collins

WHAT HE’S KNOWN FOR: Pronouncing “protest” weirdly.





BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

In an interview for one of those VH1 specials about one-hit wonders, Edwyn Collins said something of the effect of “You wouldn’t go up to Lou Reed and ask him how it feels to be a one-hit wonder.” And I thought, “Man, what a pretentious ass to be comparing himself to Lou Reed.”

But it kind of makes sense. He was in a critically acclaimed but commercially overlooked band (Orange Juice) before scoring a sole solo hit out of left field. But the more I think about it, the more I return to my original opinion that he’s a pretentious ass.

Even if you’ve never heard a Velvet Underground song, you still know who the fuck they are. The only reason I know anything about Orange Juice is because their song “Rip It Up” inspired the title for Rip It Up And Start Again, an essential tome on the history of postpunk.

Did I use tome correctly?

According to Wikipedia, “Rip It Up” actually was a Top 40 hit in the UK. So I guess Collins is a bit of a double one-hit wonder.

The first track is titled “The Campaign For Real Rock,” which, ironically, doesn’t rock. Much like Billy Joel’s “Still Rock And Roll To Me.” That said, it’s not a bad song. It’s kind of like if Urge Overkill decided to actually be Neil Diamond rather than just cover him.

One of the biggest pains in writing this blog is that with these one-hit wonders, most of their songs sound just like their hit. But Edwyn Collins stretches out in a playfully diverse style. Neil Diamond is a lot more playfully diverse than you give him credit for. Yeah, I’ve decided Edwyn Collins is just Neil Diamond re-incarnated. Even though Ol’ Neil isn’t dead yet.

“If You Could Love Me” gives me some Tom Jones-style chills. Okay, maybe Collins was actually created in a lab, spliced from the DNA of Diamond and Jones. What I’m saying is this guy is probably getting laid a lot. Hell, my panties have already dropped and I wasn’t wearing any.

He definitely wins lyric of the year (for 1994, anyhow) with this gem from “North Of Heaven”: “Some mother’s talking about Guns N’ Roses / As if I give a fuck / At best, I think they suck.” Give the man an award. Can we go back in time and retroactively make this song a hit?

I’m not sure if Collins is ironic or sincere, but either way, he’d make a fine Vegas lounge act. And I’m not being ironic when I say I mean it as a compliment. Bring down your lady friend, have some drinks and do the Shasta McNasty when you get back to the hotel.

If Edwyn Collins ever reads this review, he’ll probably hate me. Granted, he’s got more of a David Bowie influence, and “Moron” (featuring the awesome chorus: “This music won’t take you higher unless you’re a moron”) is reminiscent of The Rolling Stones’ country phase. But I still maintain he’s the Second Coming of Neil Diamond.


FINAL VERDICT: Buy this album. It’s awesome. And Collins should take Neil Diamond onto Maury to see if he is the father.

Alien Ant Farm

WHAT YOU KNOW THEM FOR: Being white and nerdy.





BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

My band once played a show with this band, let’s call them Foolstar because that was their name. I’m not sure what I did to piss them off initially (I was quite good at that back then), and me and the singer got into a pissing contest. I delivered the death blow when they went into their cover of Nirvana’s “Aneurysm.” I yelled, “That’s the best song you’ve written!”

The point of that story is that I like telling stories about myself.

It must sting when not only are you a one-hit wonder, but that sole hit is a cover. You’re not good enough to write even one song people like. You were just good enough to learn how to play a song people like. Enter Alien Ant Farm. They managed to take the one-hit cover to a new level. They appeared on an episode of MTV Cribs, and they simply recreated an Alice In Chains skit from Headbanger’s Ball.

Yes, even their non-musical performances are covers.

There were two types of rock bands that emerged in the early 2000s: those with a DJ, and those without. Alien Ant Farm falls into the latter camp. Other than their extremely dorky look (seriously, these guys make Rivers Cuomo look like Tupac), they do nothing to separate themselves from their peers. They sound like Papa Roach (or do Papa Roach sound like them?) on their faster tracks and sound like Incubus on their slower tracks. Some faux hardcore on “Wish.”

There’s nothing inherently bad about this album. They’re good enough at what they do that I’m semi-curious to check out their later stuff to see if they’ve grown any. But I probably won’t.


FINAL VERDICT: At least they don’t touch little boys

TONI BASIL

WHAT YOU KNOW HER FOR: Cheerleaders and anal sex.





BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

What about it? I couldn’t find a complete version of Word Of Mouth online, and while I could probably piece it together from Youtube clips, honestly, it’s not worth the effort for this stupid blog. So instead, I’m going with this compilation since it includes most of the songs from that album anyway.

I appreciate that this is called a “best of” compilation rather than a “greatest hits” compilation. I always find it pretentious when one hit wonders pretend there was more to their success than just that one song.

Did you know Toni Basil had a small part in Easy Rider? She also did choreography for Talking Heads and David Bowie. I’m guessing she doesn’t cry too much over the fact that her music career never took off past “Mickey.”

It’s a shame, though. Her new wave synthpop can stand alongside the best the 80s had to offer. Okay, maybe not the very best. Maybe the 2nd or 3rd tier. At the very least, “Spacewalkin’ The Dog” should’ve been sampled by Snoop Doggy Dogg and “Shopping A to Z” should’ve been reworked for Sesame Street.

Perusing the track list, I first thought “Go For The Burn” was titled “Go For The Bum.” That would’ve been a lot better.

I dig Toni Basil, I really do. Her music is fun, bouncy, catchy, but 18 tracks of it gets a little hard to sit through. Listening to either of her albums is probably a perfect listening session, but both together (which this compilation essentially is) is overkill. Or maybe I’m just too old and hate sitting through long albums.

Did you know there’s a Spanish version of “Mickey”?


FINAL VERDICT: Toni Basil claims “Mickey” isn’t about anal sex. But ponder this. If it wasn’t, why would I lie and say it was? For comedic effect?

Rockwell

WHAT YOU KNOW HIM FOR: Nepotism and paranoia




BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

Sometimes a movie uses a well-known covered by someone younger, hipper, or more relevant. Eddie Murphy’s 2003 comedic romp The Haunted Mansion used “Somebody’s Watching Me” as covered by… Morris Day? Without The Time, no less?

Rockwell was (or is, I guess, since he’s still alive) the son of Motown’s Berry Gordy. I’m sure that in no way helped him get a record deal or convince Michael Jackson to be a guest vocalist.

Listening to this album, I’m kind of surprised Rockwell didn’t manage another hit. This is some seriously good synthpop. But other than Michael Jackson’s cameo, the album lacks a truly strong vocal hook. And he falls kind of flat on his cover of “Taxman.” Then again, George Harrison fell kind of flat on the original “Taxman.” Why do people like that song?

I could do without the awful ballad, “Knife,” but this was the 80s, and I think Reagan had passed into law a requirement that every album include an awful ballad.

FINAL VERDICT:

I think it’s time for a Rockwell revival. Someone (other than Morris Day) needs to cover his music for today’s kids. “Foreign Country” needs to be adopted by politicians to tout their foreign policies (“No Culture Club or Adam Ant” succinctly describes what’s wrong with North Korea). Write to your local congressman and ask, nay, demand, a Rockwell Appreciation Day.

Gerardo

WHAT YOU KNOW HIM FOR:



Rico motherfucking Suave! The man who eats women like sushi.


BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE ALBUM?

From the onset, Mo’ Ritmo makes me wonder if I accidentally put on MC Skat Kat’s solo album by mistake. Paula Abdul beats with weak rapping? Could’ve fooled me. Actually, he did fool me. I hate you, Gerardo. Your name’s one letter away from being Geraldo. So strike two against you. And we’re only 30 seconds in. We’re starting off with some serious beef.

I always pictured Gerardo as the type of guy that wanted to make you dance. But the beats are so flat and static. And I forgot how clumsy his rapping was on “Rico Suave” (seriously, rhyming species with sushi?). He doesn’t redeem his skills anywhere on this album. “Hot and spicy like a tango / Come shake your mango” is probably the height of his word prowess. His version of “We Want The Funk” only highlights how unfunky he is.

Look, I’m sure all the gyrating and by-the-numbers pickup lines were a hit at the H&M he used to hang out in front of (and probably works at now). And Gerardo has probably had sex with countless white girls who wanted to piss off their parents but were too racist themselves to date a black guy. Actually, I have no positive counterpoints to offer.

I really hate Gerardo. Look, each song is bland and inoffensive on their own. But play more than two in a row, it’s the kind of torture that creates murderous rage in otherwise peaceful men. Mo’ Ritmo? More like Mo’ Gitmo. There’s an idea. Let’s use this to torture members of ISIS and gain valuable information. Come on, Gerardo. This is your chance to atone for your sins.


FINAL VERDICT

If Gerardo actually had talent, he’d probably be able to afford a shirt.