Essentially a record that defies genre, ‘Muttonhead’ (the nickname of it's producer, Jerry Erickson) has unquestionable country leanings, as well as a distinctive ‘live’ sound that gives all eight songs an appealing edge. But essentially, this is a punk record U.S. style and that’s a fact maan!
Eccentricity and CONSTANT VELOCITY go hand in hand as this second full-length offering from the Illinois trio demonstrates from the off. The messy, ramshackle, super-slurry vocals and sometimes screaming death rattle of ‘After 4’ underlines this, a wild concoction that makes sense where there seems to be only D.I.Y. chaos.
The pedal steel anti-ode to ‘Kelly’ underlines the album’s country loyalties amidst a stick-tapping flurry, whilst in stark contrast the deep set gain-heavy guitars leave trails of feedback behind them. The resulting tension is both interesting and full of off-kilter charm.
This is no lightweight tiptoe down the middle of the road. ‘Disorder’ s gentle vocal reverb and bossa-nova balladeer tactics twang alphabetised as some strange kind of tribute to the anal retentive ways of the straight. What’s more, all attempts to ‘break the minds’ of this three piece are set up to fail against the gate-crashing power of the spoken word.
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For the dastardly, there’s ‘Truculent’ (with it’s positively endearing vocal refrain “Nice Truck Asshole”!). Muddy feedback and the Valium tempo is here twinned with a mule-kicking exhibition of vocal dexterity, set deep within superb music-hall acoustics. In the space of a menacing bass guitar riff, the whole track is reborn as a jam-happy reprisal of some repute.
There are murmured garage ramblings and shimmered harmonics aplenty in the screeching dancehall echo of Pink Floyd’s ‘Time’, whilst the bass/percussion combo of ‘Lucky Double Nines’ is bittersweet and mildly psychotic enough to bend even the most cynical ear.
The eight tracks, sounding live, combine to arouse interest and then do much to heighten the intrigue. As the plot thickens, there seems to be a kind of correlation, but then again there isn’t.
Weird. And also, in a very odd way, wonderful.
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