Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Creeper Lagoon - Vs. The Dead C

(Ratfish, 1995)

Hiya friends, sorry to keep you waiting so long on this Creeper Lagoon review for which I asked you to hold your breaths. Thing is, I was at the Jersey Shore Monday night, and then on Tuesday the MLB All-Star Game electrified me so much that I needed to fall asleep early on the couch. But all of that’s in the past now, because tonight NOTHING will stand between me and this review, not even a thousand bullets or a million bombs. People, no number of catapults or cannons or dangerous armored vehicles will prevent this average-to-good record from spinning. Neither dogs nor horses nor apes nor elephants will tear me from my keyboard. A sea of sharpened sticks a-slicing and a-stabbing? Not a chance! I’ll type with my stumps! OK, now, having spat upon every weapon through history, LET’S GET TO IT!! READY???

…Oh, hey! Hang on. Guess what? This is the first single to be played on my Brand New Record Player – a true honor! Unfortunately, the needle has already been sullied by the vomitous John Cale Comes Alive LP, but I’m confident that better days are ahead for that machine. And for my ears!

Now. Guitars- n vocals-wise, we’re often in loosey-goosey GBV land with Creeper Lagoon, but small touches like simple keyboard parts, doubled vox, and competent harmonies elevate the songs to a certain catchy/goofy level of okey-doke (esp. “August Pascal”). A slow happy one + a slow sad one + a fast one + a sub-sophomoric one = bases COVERED, all in a lo-fi fuzzy pop/rock style that strives to keep it casual. And succeeds, at that, so another apt comparison might be the earlier Home records, pre-XIV. Anyway, here’s an embarrassing but accurate statement: Things don’t come much more “stereotypically ’90s indie” than this sucker. Truth.

And ah, right, one last tidbit. The title’s a joke, so Dead C fans shouldn’t be running through the streets burning and killing in order to find a copy of this 7”. However, if you would really like to determine for yourself whether or not Bruce Russell contributes, I’ll happily sell you mine for a princely sum.

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