Perhaps it was providence that this album was released on the
day the world stood utterly still. Maybe it was some sort of
more powerful force at work that at least had the good grace
to bury this release as far out of our individual and collective
consciousnesses as possible. I'm always looking for the cloud's
silver lining, you know.
I can't think of a good reason to dredge yourself out of your
post-9/11 lifestyle, whatever that may be, in order to "re-discover"
this album. While an occasional song here or there will toy
with a melody, hook, or counter-riff that might be interesting
if it had better company, the vast majority of the album is
a hodge-podge of in-jokes and smirks on the parts of the artists.
The production is low grade masquerading as lo-fi, a companion
in spirit to the Athens-area branch of the Elephant 6 collective,
and thus worthy of little more than trash bins and acetylene
Perhaps if these guys decided to actually work on their songs
and turn them into something other than a bonfire of vanities
their next release will be worth listening to. Nothing similarly
hopeful can redeem Moldy Peaches, though.
Two sponges, though I pity the fool who spends good money on
this thing. Unless you think The Music Tapes are just the greatest
thing since sliced bread run like hell from The Moldy Peaches.