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Those Are Not My Bongos
Future Farmer
San Francisco goof-offs learn that quality trumps novelty; band members exclaim their own name in disgust.
Ten years after Fuck first landed on shelves, the buzz on the band has quieted down, especially after the initial consumer-conscious strategy of getting record-store geeks to giggle at their name lost its appeal. Now, instead of some twentysomething calling out, "Hey, check it out. A band called Fuck," the reaction has turned into, "Oh, another album by that weird band, Fuck." On Those Are Not My Bongos, Fuck's first American release in three years, the San Francisco foursome delivers 16 songs that have little in common with each other except their repeated attempts to confront the listener with more unmentionables. The opening tune, "Motherfuckeroos," immediately confronts the listener by asking, over a harp, "Does the penis offend you? Do the female charms alarm?" before breaking into a slow, lovely croon. The next two songs continue in a bouncy, likable way, but they're too brief. Whereas a band like Guided by Voices can get away with quick, fleeting pop songs, it's harder for Fuck, because they lack urgency, electing to lay back, with barely any repeated hooks that stick. Still, Fuck makes unexpectedly lovely music at times, and literally sticky-sweet sentiments, like in "Her Plastic Acupuncture Foot," are endearing: "Fingers locked in caramel corn goo/when cool things happen I think of you," sings Timmy Prudhomme. Perhaps Fuck is trying to "mature as a band," as they say. And when bands try to mature, it usually results in a hit-and-miss collection like this. (Kevin Sampsell)
Drive-by Truckers
The Dirty South
New West
Southern rockers keep the good times rolling with imaginative tales of the South and a new hot bassist.
If you don't know the score with the Drive-by Truckers, it's a simple enough formula: Imagine a smarter, somewhat soberer Lynyrd Skynyrd with lyrics penned by a latter-day William Faulkner or Flannery O'Connor. The band's redneck rock and modern Southern gothic storytelling proceed full speed on the band's latest collection, The Dirty South, which finds leader Patterson Hood's compositions equally balanced by songs from longtime compadre Mike Cooley and more recent addition Jason Isbell. The result is a kaleidoscopic crazy quilt of tall tales of the South, past, present and imagined. The band that mined Skynyrd's history for 2001's breakthrough album Southern Rock Opera digs deeper into musical mythology on "Carl Perkins' Cadillac," a rockin' rumination on the varying fates of Sam Phillips' Sun Records stable. Other true-life characters shuffling through the album include the infamous Sheriff Buford Pusser who was immortalized in the movie Walking Tall. He appears in two separate tunes, as do any number of vividly sketched neighbors and drifters, friends and relations, all mystified by the glory and misery of life below the Mason-Dixon Line. Of course, it wouldn't be a new DBT album without a new Trucker on board; this time its bassist Shonna Tucker, who fits in just fine. A woman's presence adds nicely to the band's ecumenical pan-Southernism--and besides, she should be far more pleasant to watch on stage than the dorky-lookin' (though talented!) dude she replaced. (Jeff Rosenberg)
Fuck
WWeek 2015