I, Malimus, finally received internet recognition for my work
here at EvilSponge dot Org. I found out like this:
PostLibyan: Hey, check out this
link to your Weezer review!
Malimus: I ramble on incessantly and incoherently for
some three odd years, spewing forth words unending like a frothy
steamed milk topping to my bitter expresso soul and someone
finally links to the 25 word review...?
PostLibyan: It's eSpresso, not eXpresso dammit! Get it
Malimus: eSpresso is coffee. eXpresso is my soul.
PostLibyan: Your soul is based on a common mis-understanding
of an Italian word? Man, that sucks ... Maybe
[the Weezer review] is the first thing you have composed that
people can understand?
Malimus: I think from now on I'm going to write all of
my reviews as haiku.
Just so, you know, ya know. As such, I present you, the fair
reader, with the first of my series of haiku reviews. In true
American Zen fashion, I will attach a commentary to the end
of the exercise, detailing the points it is trying to make,
and thus destroying all possibility of the exercise actually
attaining any sort of Zen moment for the reader. So, here we
go, okay? The new Imperial Teen album (out on Merge Records),
reviewed as haiku:
New wave retro chic
All asses on the dance floor
Shake that love machine
I'm pushing the traditional boundaries of the form, I must
admit, but I think it is defensible that "retro chic" sets the
season, in a certain sense, no? Okay, it's not Basho or anything,
but it's a start.
Now, the always-helpful commentary!
I hearby submit to the class On as 2002's record
of the year. It is great. Great, great, great, great, great.
Really, really great. Imperial Teen is great. This is their
third album, and they've yet to release anything worse than
a 6-sponger. Imperial Teen is just great. On is
Does that clarify everything? No? Okay, how's about we mention
the fact that this is what New Wave should sound like in 2002.
Catchy, poppy, hooks that just beg the listener to sing along,
the best boy-girl melodies EVER. Imagine if Blondie and Adam
Ant were to get together and form a New Wave super group. Now
update that sound for the post-grunge era. Improve the interplay
between the members to the point where you're unable to conceive
of the four members separately, thinking only of them as slightly
individuated aspects of the perfect pop band. And give them
a catalogue of songs with lyrics that accent perfectly the gender-bending
dynamic of the form.
I'm serious people; this is just the greatest record in the
world. Ivanka kicks everything off with a straight-up
guitar-pop groove. "One two three go…" and they're off. The
bass line carries the song while the guitars serve as secondary
lyrical content as much as "guitars". Baby swings in
on a flurry of female "Whoa," handclaps and guitar riffs. "Shake
shake, va va voom, vis a vis. Go go, I do you, you do me…" The
first bridge introduces a synthesizer beat straight out of The
Psychadelic Furs. By Sugar you've forgotten what decade
you're in and thinking about day-glo shoestrings. By Million
$ Man you've forgotten the very existence of linear spatio-temporality.
Why don't you own this record? Why aren't you dancing?!?
What? You don't like the 80s? That's okay. I personally detest
the 80s. I hated New Wave. I hate retro-radio programming selling
the stupid kids a nostalgia they didn't have to live through.
I hate most things that remind me even slightly of my youth,
in fact. But if that godforsaken decade had produced a few more
albums of this quality, I might be less bitter.
Stop reading this review. Go to the Merge site and order this
damned CD. BUY IT NOW! You'll thank me for it.
Now, how to explain The Meat Purveyors in 17 syllables…