Classic Christgau Burns

What kind of Christian idealists lift their best riff from PIL (or from anywhere at all)?

I'll boogie to the right machine; I can even imagine fucking a cyborg.

What am I supposed to say about the latest in meaning-mongering for the fantasy fiction set? That they are not as good as King Crimson?

Plus I never liked Crimson much to begin with.

I mean, why not "little nigger with the spitcurl" instead of "little faggot with the earring," Mark?

Frank Zappa: Oh shut up.

Jungle sure has livelied up this prematurely ambient postdance snoozemeister.

The Downward Spiral [Nothing/TVT/Interscope, 1994]
musically, Hieronymus Bosch as postindustrial atheist; lyrically, Transformers as kiddie porn

But no matter how well-turned the lyric, very few listeners actually enjoy songs in which snobbish dandies trot out their sexual egomania and baby envy.

Nick Currie compares his quest for fame to God's and wonders why the big fella gets all the coverage.

The answer is that God is a nicer guy.

But Yank fun is much less spirituel, so that God bless America, "One More Time" is merely an annoying novelty stateside. The way our butts plug in, there are better beats on the damn Jadakiss CD.

Wimpoid royaloid heavoid android void.

Yeah yeah, I know, synthesizers are the electric guitars of the future--they're "progressive," just like all the Europop here.

Hen fap is something that you need to have

Although I resisted at first, I've grown to love every minute of this arty little collection of static (i.e., non-swinging) out-of-context zings (on vocals, percussion, and guitar). Think of it as the thread equivalent of a park on the moon -- oneness with nature under conditions of artificial gravity. Left open in a background tab, all fifteen posts merge into a pattern that tends to calm any lurking Luddite impulses; perceived individually, each takes on an organic shape of its own. Industrialism yes. A+

when did Christgau review ILX?

How anyone whose concept of beauty is so well-bred can pretend to visionary politics has always baffled me, but for a start she could write songs in which the object always follows the predicate. I don't know about The People, but just plain people say "scattered upon the four winds," not "upon the four winds scattered." Actually, they don't say "scattered upon the four winds" either, but we'll get to that next time. C+

J Mascis is a one-trick guitar god whose act gets sloppier and samier as his adolescence becomes more figurative. He does have his own instrumental sound, a roiling whine that's the essence of grunge on pot. Unfortunately, he also has his own vocal sound, ditto. Grunge's pothead contingent will adore him until he succumbs to male-pattern baldness. But someday, archaeologists will wonder just exactly what was the point. I wonder now. B

http://www.robertchristgau.com/icon/x2.gif

Between "Dead Homiez," which mourned murdered friends in a voice some called soft, and Boyz N the Hood, which required him to simulate thought, the St. Ides spokesperson was worried about his image. To use the only noun in the hard lexicon that suggests normal human sensitivities, he was acting like a "faggot." So here he reclaims his perpetually threatened manhood. Early on he mitigates the usual gangsta shit--gat as penis and pit bull, female body as pestilence and plague--with such touches as an antigang track and a nurse with attitude. But eventually he breaks new ground. In addition to many fascinated rhymes on the complex subject of who fucks who in the ass and how, he nuts out on white devils who crave "a taste of chocolate" because "white bitches have no butt and no chest." He inveighs against "Jap" and "Jew." And he proposes a "nationwide boycott" of Korean-owned inner-city businesses that escape the torch, poking gentle fun at the Korean accent along the way. Call him Ice KKKube--a straight-up bigot simple and plain. C+

His racially convoluted formalism having long since come clean as a total absence of original ideas, he grabs the brass ring from the back of a tacked-on Guess Who cover best heard on the far more imaginative Austin Powers soundtrack. Lenny, your work here on earth is done. We've got Derek Jeter now. C

Lateralus [Volcano, 2001]
What am I supposed to say about the latest in meaning-mongering for the fantasy fiction set? That they are not as good as King Crimson? That I do not like my Billy Cobham comp even less? That this is not progress? That I am not a virgin? All of the above. Plus I never liked Crimson much to begin with. C

"Why are you sad?" inquired the alt-rock mag. "I dunno," replied the former child actor d/b/a Palace and such. "I guess I was born." Admired for his reticence, sexual ambivalence, and general refusal of formal commitment, I mean closure, Oldham lacks neither talent nor originality, and up against some truly lousy competition this is his most melodic record. But to declare him a new avatar of Appalachian purity is absurd, not just because he's a rich city kid who can't sing, but because his purity is a candid affectation--a standard variation on late alt's agoraphobic cultivation of ineptitude as a token of spiritual superiority. Why is he sad? Because sad is easier than happy--almost comforting, in a chickenshit way. C PLUS

Slip of the Tongue [Geffen, 1989]
They got lucky, and they don't intend to let go. With fast-gun-for-hire Steve Vai operating all guitars and who knows what other geegaws, they've consolidated their sound into essence of arena: all pomp, flash, male posturing, and sentimentality, this is now the Worst Band in the World. So you just move over, Journey. (Hey--where is Journey?) D

BAN NUDE GABBNEB!!

Makes sense that at this moment in history Al Gore's spiritual megrims seem so much more fascinating than Billy Corgan's-Gore might actually affect our lives. But what can it mean that his vocal cadences are sexier?

http://web.archive.org/web/20060219033745/ilx.wh3rd.net/thread.php?msgid=6618643

..."Mick Jagger should fold up his penis and go home"