BELLINGHAM, Wash. — Longtime members of legendary drone-metal band Earth are reportedly annoyed by a recent performance that was perpetually interrupted by the narration of natural history legend David Attenborough, sources close to the band confirmed.
“He just kept hip-checking our sound technician out of the way and hopping on the god mic, describing everything we were doing in that soothing British accent of his. It was making Adrienne and me pretty self-conscious,” said Earth guitarist and founder Dylan Carlson, clearly still shaken by the experience. “I mean, I understand the marquee said ‘EARTH’ in big letters outside, so he obviously felt his presence was necessary. But how did he know our respective mating habits down to the last detail? I guess that’s one thing to say for the dude — he definitely does his research.”
Attenborough didn’t seem to notice that the band was irritated by his presence.
“The dirge-like rituals on display were nothing short of fascinating. I was reminded of the slowest mammal on Earth, the three-toed sloth of Southeastern Brazil, and how it evolved through millennia to necessitate moving less rather than eating more,” said the British broadcaster, as though he was being recorded for one of his many nature documentaries. “These musicians were doing exactly that, but with sound. In fact, they gave the dutiful sloth a run, or rather imperceptibly measured lagging, for its money in the sedation department. It was like nothing I’d seen before or since. Well, maybe at that one Sunn O))) show I wandered into a few years ago.”
Bill Nighy, narrator of “The World’s Most Scenic Railway Journeys,” expressed his thoughts on Attenborough’s sudden rogue mission at the concert.
“Well, you see, all famous elderly storytellers live as roommates in the same apartment, so we can better function as NYLON, the Not Young League of Narrators, which consists of me, Dave, the bloke who did the old ‘Rocky and Bullwinkle show,’ and of course, Morgan Freeman when he’s not booked. We usually run our schedules by the others over tea and toast every morning,” explained Nighy, in an effortlessly soothing timbre. “So when we later heard Ol’ Atty had gone ‘off-book’ that day at the Earth show, we were all taken aback. We of course admire his spirit, but it must be said that we at NYLON do not condone his actions. One more slip up and he’s liable to have to turn in his mic, pop filter, and water bottle.”
At press time, it was discovered that everyone in attendance had been long lulled to sleep by the soothing drone of Earth to have heard Attenborough’s musings anyway.
Is the schtick getting old or is Primus struggling to remain Primus? This is the most Frank Zappa drenched in Ketamine of all of their albums thus far. The album just kicks off with a sluggish spoken word mistake of a track and is never able to catch up with itself. I will applaud the band for leaning away from the catchy hooks into more experimental territory, unfortunately that experiment was a failure.
Why does every latter-day Primus track sound like a doctor trying to explain something to you while you are slipping under anesthesia? There is just no energy in most of these tracks with some of them sounding like a demented segment of “Sesame Street.” This all sounds like if Tool took themselves slightly less seriously. I know Primus isn’t really the kind of band to have singles, but it is like they are actively working against having any kind of melody or hook.
After over a decade without a full-length album, that isn’t live or a greatest hits, Primus is back and still sounding like a PG-13 They Might Be Giants. And why not take some time off when you have “South Park” money? That being said, this album is kind of meandering and uninspired. It feels like Primus went from genuinely quirky to weird for weird’s sake. At its best, this album sounds like a child’s toy running low on batteries at its worst it sounds like early Red Hot Chili Peppers.
There is something so apropos about Primus covering the entire soundtrack of “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.” Unfortunately, the whole album feels very slapdash and the fact the entire thing was based around covering “Pure Imagination” it makes every other track seems like an afterthought. Most of Les Claypool’s performance sounds like a drunk dad leaving you a meandering voicemail at 2 a.m.
I’ll admit, as someone who had a poster of Primus on his wall and wore the t-shirt, I was long over them (the “Brown Album” was just too hard to stomach) by the time this album came out and I never actually listened to it. I will say that it seems that they got the kickback in their step. This is a fun, energetic roller-coaster of an album and I feel bad that I never listened to it. Once again every track is essentially a character breakdown of an R. Crumb doodle but at least it’s fun.
Maybe it was the surprising success of “Pork Soda” but this is the first album where Primus sounds like they don’t know what to do with themselves. Don’t get me wrong, all the songs still sound like the theme song to canceled Saturday Morning Cartoons, but it all feels forced in a way that seemed so effortless beforehand.
Like them or not, rarely has a band come out of the womb so fully formed with such a confident personality as Primus does on “Fizzle Fry.” Les Claypool is already a complete carnival barker on acid from track 1. Most other bands would tip-toe around sounding like a cartoon walrus (both in voice and lyrics) for their first album.
Like the Kinks, every song is its own sad little story about loss, fate, and Kubrick. At least that is what I got out of it. This album is like a Rorschach Test, everyone is going to get something different out of it but in the end it is probably just silly nonsense. Primus has a way of drawing pictures with their music, strange little doodles in the margins of society but somehow, at least with their best albums, they are able to remain just barely within the lines of pop-music making enjoyable melodies out of the strangest of circumstances.
You know how there are these folk artists with no formal training that make crucifixes out of old bike parts or whatever and just fill their yard with them, not doing it for fame or fortune but because they just feel compelled by some unknown force to create. Primus is the musical equivalent of that and it shows on this album. They are folk artists who have a passion and a need to express themselves in the only way they know how. Obviously, Les is their leader but that doesn’t negate the work of the other members… whatever their names are.
Born in New York City, Elise Parker never, ever let you forget the fact she was born in New York City. She claimed until her dying day to have never loudly cheered “Woooooo!” when a band would ask the audience “How’s everyone doing tonight?”
Born in Toledo, Ohio, Gary Kirkpatrick moved briefly to Cleveland before getting sick of the goddamn jokes and moving back to Toledo. He was a huge fan of the band Evanescence, once saying of them “Don’t ever tell anyone that Evanescence is my favorite band! That shit is fucking embarrassing.”
Born in an abandoned school bus somewhere outside of Kenosha, Wisconsin, Robert Oliphiler became known to his friends and family as “Scudnuts” after a childhood Razor scooter accident over hot asphalt. After later moving to Kenosha, he could often be found asking to bum cigarettes outside of bars he’d been banned from.
Oh hey there, what are you doing in your free time at this coffee shop, staring at your phone? Catching up on some emails, maybe doom scrolling, that’s cool. Me? Oh, I’m just over here trying to figure out the nature of the universe itself, no big deal. It’s not like this is a competition or anything. Except it is. And I’m winning.
There’s only one thing better than taking in a bonafide classic — looking like you’re taking in a bonafide classic. I don’t think I’ve actually retained a word of this thing for a good ten pages now, but the cuties at this Barnes & Noble Starbucks cafe wouldn’t know it because I periodically nod and make a little “mmm” noise.
Nothing says “I am a loyal yet dangerous alpha” like reading ‘The Art Of War” in public. This classic Eastern meditation on the nature of conflict is full of wisdom that can be applied to almost any situation. For example, Sun Tzu’s first lesson is to consider the terrain before a battle. That’s why I’m reading it on a bench outside a coffee shop with lots of foot traffic on a nice day.
Way ahead of you, Abbie Hoffman. This book could be called “Do Not Steal This Book Under Any Circumstances Under Penalty Of Death’ and Barnes & Nobel’s policy of not physically touching customers or preventing them from leaving in any way will remain the same.” It’s a bit dated, sort of like ‘The Anarchist Cookbook’ if The Jolly Roger said “jive turkey” a lot.
I look okay reading this in public as long as I’m not reading it in my hometown. Unfortunately, I never left my hometown so I have to disguise myself if I wanna read it in the condo parking lot that used to be a park.
A few years ago, I might have put this one up toward the top. This book made me look much smarter before it had 6 degrees of separation from Amber Heard’s feces.
Did you know that every story is about change? Of course, you did. But have you read a long-winded nearly incomprehensible chunk of academia that essentially boils down to that? I thought not, rube. Truth be told I can barely understand a word of this thing, but I watched Dan Harmon drunkenly rant about story circles for 20 minutes on a podcast live-stream so I think I get it.
You might be thinking that the cats out of the bag on this being a fake-smart person book, and you’re right, but that’s what makes reading it in public such a move. It’s the literary equivalent of wearing a dumb t-shirt you found at a thrift store. There you are with some quality novel on your nightstand that you just can’t seem to make time for and here I am with the intellectual security to read trash fiction in public. It implies that I read so much I can afford to slum it.
If you think ‘Infinite Jest’ isn’t on this list you’re dreaming. Reading that magnum opus is an accomplishment that I am proud to make people think I have done. But consider the merits of David Foster Wallace’s lesser works, like this collection of essays. Sure it’s not as formidable looking as “Infinite Jest,’ but that makes it more portable, and if you’re bothering to read this people might assume you’ve already read ‘Infinite Jest’ and you’re just hungry for more DFW footnotes. Plus there’s a dope story about porn award shows I actually almost read all of.
Yup, just a guy sitting on a bench reading some Vonnegut in public, thinking the big thoughts, seeing through the bullshit, no big deal.
This won’t get you much notice in normal environments, save for the occasional Ozzy fan who will loudly sing a mispronounced “Mr. Crowley!” at you. But in the right setting, this or any Crowley book is worth its weight in gold. I was king for a day flipping through this thing at a goth flea market one time. Just be prepared to riff your way through a conversation about “the left-hand path,” whatever that means.
I’ve spent 10,000 hours trying to look smarter than I am and I owe it all to the O.G king of fake smart people, noted Lolita Express alumni Malcolm Gladwell. I have no idea what this particular book is about, but if I know my boy it’s full of outrageous claims followed by tedious little anecdotes proving that they are technically, from a completely asinine clickbait perspective, true.
Are you looking for a book that will tell the world “I am the most particular and brooding mother fucker doing laundry today”? Look no further than Camus’ ‘The Stranger.’ Oh, the dryer is gonna take 35 minutes? Cool, let me take in this World War II-era existential novella about how shitty things get when you kill someone even if you’re a completely indifferent person. It pairs nicely with my shitty noise-bleeding headphones that let anyone in a 15-foot radius know I’m listening to The Cure.
This is another great book ruined by a movie fanbase. Reading “Fight Club” in public will most likely elicit an eye-roll at best. At worst, you’ll get a “his name is Robert Paulson” and then you’ll need to move towns and change your identity.
Yeah man, the beats man. Dig how I’m reading ‘On The Road’ in public. Who am I? Am I a crazy jazz freak all hopped up on bennys and grass, killing time before I go hop a few rail-cars to a new city on a quest to find the beautiful heart of America? Or am I just on a break from my shift at Urban Outfitters? You don’t know. All you know is I am one deep cat who gets IT man.
While the name is completely different, this book was actually the basis of the cult sci-fi film ‘Blade Lasers.’ It takes place in a distant future where everyone has a cool jacket, and Harrison Ford needs to find the grail of Christ before the evil Galactic Empire gets it and destroys the sun. There’s just one problem — robots. Can Agent Detective get them to sleep before it’s too late? You’ll have to read it yourself to find out. And then let me know.
Or anything Nietzsche really, just get yourself spotted interacting with the brand and people will get the hint that you’re a serious sort of person and they should be intimidated. Nietzsche’s work was edited after his death to better fit Nazi ideology, which is a shame because it tarnishes his otherwise beautiful message — God is dead and the universe is basically PTSD. Bust this one out when someone nearby is reading something that makes them look smart, and you want to one-up them.
Sure, you pretend to know that communism works on paper, but are you willing to go the extra fake mile and pretend to do the leg work that fake proves it? I sure as hell am, especially at Gather, a local coffee shop/lLGBTQ+ community space where not enough people are noticing me.
When the master reads this book, it is almost as if he has read nothing at all. That’s the sort of rhetorical nonsense this book will arm you with all day. Reading this makes me the wisest person at this park, and if you disagree with me, I’ll just throw a bunch of symmetrical word-game sentences at you until you get a headache.
I consider myself a citizen of the world and have ever since my surrogate father figure Anthony Bourdain introduced me to the idea of travel on television. I’ve never actually been outside this country, but you would sure think I have the way I’m reading this book at a trendy eatery with sunglasses on. 
Well, one Billy Talent record had to be ranked last here, but honestly, this one definitely isn’t a stinker. Compared to the rest of the band’s lush and sonically pleasing audio catalog, “Afraid of Heights” just falls slightly short of the next-to-be-mentioned recent 2022 outing, and just doesn’t inspire repeated listens as often as the following five LPs. Still, it debuted at number one in a few countries, including The Great White North, so what the hell do we know? Don’t answer that.
As mentioned below in the handy dandy “play it again” section, the epic nearly seven-minute opener “Forgiveness I & II” is the best song on “Crisis Of Faith,” and without question the band’s finest since its preceding release “Dead Silence”… More on that LP later as it is likely ranked here differently than you may think! That song alone justifies the six-year gap between albums, which is the group’s longest since their debut LP as Billy Talent. Hopefully BT makes its next album much sooner as we’re going through a crisis. Get it? Don’t answer that II.
First off, you gotta admire a band for naming its first three albums chronologically, as it is a feat that few others besides Led Zeppelin can do so gracefully; don’t mess with Peter Grant, seriously. Anyway, our punk rock hearts still wish that “Billy Talent III” contained the original version of “Turn Your Back” with Anti-Flag’s vocals, but we still enjoy the album version, albeit slightly less than the one featuring Justin Sane; turncoat. Finally, It must be said that the band’s pristine musicianship is showcased quite well on this LP, but the next three records listed below just had more consistent and overall better songs. So sorey.
We may get some hate for this, but “Viking Death March” is Billy Talent’s premier single that the band or most others may never top. That’s ok, because it fucking rules. Yeah. We also love it when bands close albums with the record’s title track, and no other song would make the album feel as balanced as “Dead Silence” does. The band’s fourth and longest record takes you on a whirlwind of textures and colors from start to finish, and we’re all here for it! However, the following two are quite hard to top and your opinion on the matter is wrong anyway.
Not too many bands make as strong of an audible statement as Billy Talent does with its album opener “This Is How It Goes,” which is without hesitation complete R-O-C-K in the C-A-N-A-D-A. Also, track three, “Try Honesty,” was a minor hit in America, and sadly one of the band’s last radio songs in the States. Perhaps the USA couldn’t handle the impossible-to-label (or spell) Benjamin Kowalewicz’s unique vocals or Ian D’Sa’s elegant six-string shredding; miscreant uneducated peasants. If you’re feeling frisky, like many ex(es), check out the 10th-anniversary edition reissue of the band’s debut LP, which has several demos and live versions of each of the LP’s twelve songs. Since it’s 2023, we’d love to see a 20th-anniversary run of this album!
With the exception of classic AFI critical darling and multi-Academy Award-winning films “The Godfather Part II” and “Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit,” sequels are pretty much never better than the originals. Both Lauryn Hill and Jennifer Love-Hewitt would surely agree that BT’s sophomore LP “Billy Talent II” goes against the grain and manages to supersede both its former and four latter releases. Want more proof that we’re right and you’re likely wrong about this one? On the band’s 2014 greatest hits record simply titled “Hits,” four of the compilation’s fourteen songs come from LP2, making it the most represented LP on the release. Yep. Not sorey. In closing, guitar nerds should attempt to NOT butcher the gorgeous and complicated “play it again” track listed below.