Holy piss, I have listened to this terrible song way too many times because of this project, and I’ll be honest: some days it sounds worse to me than others. Sonically, that is. It’s still a giant deadpan wank-off bore, but occasionally the meekly growling low-end synth will worm its way into my ear enough for me to think twice about saying it sounds like a washed out bag of horse farts.
Somebody tell Phillip Seymour Hoffman he’s allowed to give his songs a bit of fucking menace!
Which isn’t to say that there aren’t parts of the song that work for me. I don’t mind it when the ringing glockenspiel tones come in and at least distract me from all the mid-heavy synth trash, for example. And the oh-so-2010 background vocal yelps in the chorus work for me very much.
But for shit sakes, the repetitive higher-pitched bleep-blooping synth line — no, not that one, the other one — feels like something I’d have happened upon by hitting “Generate Random” on the TS-404 synth program I still have on my computer from 1999. And as much as I’d like to be nice and say that I could see how it might be better experienced with a full live band on proper equipment that doesn’t sound like shit, I… uh… I don’t think it’s the equipment that’s the problem.
Like I say, my objections here are not merely sonic in nature, but Jesus. There are just so many goddamned thwup-thwups that neither shake the very bottom of my soul, nor buzz through in a hazy abrasive drone. I’m not sure which of those two choices would have been better than what we’ve got here, but I sure as fuck would have tried at least one of them. (Then again, I also would have made the choice to not write Drunk Girls, which is the track that precedes this one on This Is Happening and fucking sucks.)
Hey, but they at least made an effort to clutter my ear-holes with so much static and so many other noises that maybe I wouldn’t notice.
Ahh, but I did notice!
And what’s this? Is he “huh-huh”-ing at me for a while here? This was a necessary little departure in your fucking interminable nearly-eight-minute-long sound painting with the I-am-super-cereal vocals? Fuck off.
Here’s “one touch” for ya: the play button on the song I’m preeeeetty sure you were trying to make, the author of which — who I always mistakenly call Martin Bormann in my head, ho ho ho — at least had the decency to ensure it clocked in under four minutes: