If you enjoyed rock mastermind-cum-roué queen Kim Fowley’s droll scene-stealing stint in Mayor Of The Sunset Strip and want to keep those fond memories intact, then do yourself a big favor and give this pointless puerile pap a pass.
Fowley, the self-proclaimed Frankenstein monster of rock ’n’ roll, has teamed up with middling multi-instrumentalist “Egor” Swedeen to record the same kind of self-indulgent, masturbatory music that millions of no-talent geeks squirt out of their Macs every night in their bedroom studios.
And that’s the problem with today’s music: Too many people have absolutely nothing to say, yet they insist on saying it and are unfortunately enabled to do so by modern technology.
In his portentous holier-than-Fow liner notes, Kimmy claims that this misshapen melodramatic mishmash of clammy desert surf music is “a true picture of our culture.” Which certainly doesn’t bode well for civilization, given that The West Is Best is the worst.
Then again, what else do you expect from someone desperate enough to use his claptrap commentary as a vehicle to publicly trawl for “his next wife and/or newest girlfriend = bride of Frankenstein number two: where are you?”
Memo to the monster: We go. You stay. You belong dead.
Cue the villagers.
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