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Fuck, "Cupid's Cactus"
Note: My review could have read entirely like this: "What the Fuck isthis? It's fucking Fuck that's what the fuck it is, you fuck. Oh, Fuck,this is good. It's fucking so good Fuck is 'Fuck-ing' again." Somepeople think that sort of thing is clever. Luckily, I don't. Okay, nowto the real review. It's interesting listening to any band with a namedesigned to incense. Crunt, for instance. 1,000 Homo DJs, for another.However, what seems to be the most interesting part is that none ofthese bands set out to incense people with their music. It must be alet-down, in fact, when some people set out to play a naive practicaljoke on their friend by buying them the record with the "F-word" on thecover, actually listen to the record and realize two things: 1) Themusic doesn't really match the name of the band; 2) The music isn'thalf bad. And that's exactly what I'd say about this current effort."Cupid's Cactus" finds the band with their most laid-back release todate, and that's saying a lot. Fuck has always been this way: one shortstep away from a country western band with folk tendencies, determinedto rock you, just with subtlety. It's one of those records you put onat a party when everyone is having deep intellectual conversationsanyway. It's perfect for your cocktail party. Songs labor on, buildingsweetly and deliberately, piling on the histrionics until they stop,then start again as before. It's a great sound. Sometimes it's enoughto make you want it to just explode. It never does, thankfully. It'snot the best thing ever. It's not going to change your life.Occasionally it's good to hear this kind of record. Something originalenough to be daring, but not complicated enough to make a fuss about.It's just good, laid-back, and easy to listen to. You'll find yourselftapping your toe repeatedly. Just subtlely.
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