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Raunchy: A discord electric

27/09/10 || revenant

“I never forget a face, but in your case I’d be happy to make an exception.”

That classic verbal slap is the immortal words of one Groucho Marx and are, coincidently, the first words that came to mind after being introduced to this album. Wow, what a fucking shitpile this is. Oh well, looks like I’ll just have to suck it up, sit through the 60-odd minutes of horseshit and hope I don’t end up mentally scarred in the process.

There are so many things wrong with this album, where to begin?

Let’s start with the moniker. A band’s name is an introduction to the band, it should represent what they stand for, what type of music they play and allude to lyrical themes. So what do we have here: Raunchy? For fuck’s sake, really? Let me say this: there nothing sexy about the band, the music, the themes, or anything related to what I am reviewing. This is bile inducing filth is as sexy as a junkie stripper who’s been dead for 8 weeks, whose corpse has been raped by feral dogs and whose vagina is now home to a family of rabid pigeons. To suggest there is anything raunchy about this rubbish is an obscenity. (And speaking of obscenities: a word from the wise. Don’t do a Google image search for the album cover with safe search off, particularly when you do it at your place of work. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.)

Then there’s the music. Fuck me. Ok, so there’s heavy guitars that play an occasional decent riff, but interspaced between these rare moments of decency is a whole lot of electronic bullshit and terrible cleanly sung choruses. It sounds like the retarded love child of Andrew WK and Fallout Boy. Just die already. It was 10 seconds into the first track I knew this would be a rough ride. It was three songs in I knew I was going to crap all over this record. Imagine my dismay at realizing there was a full hour of this shit. Fuck off.

Now have a look at the band themselves:
Artistic bullshit

Hello? Guys, the camera is this way! Oh, I get it, you’re artists. Let’s all look off in random directions with contemplative looks on our faces. Yes, that’s what all deep thinking musicians do. Your shitpile album is clearly a deep shitpile.

I have nothing more that I want to say on this album. I once saw a show on television called “World’s Worst Jobs”. There was a guy who was a scuba diver at a sewerage plant whose job was to unblock blockages in the pipes. That’s right, this guy swims in shit for a living. After demonstrating what he does to camera, he was given a short interview. He said, and I quote, “- Yeah, I may swim through human waste for a living, but it’s better than listening to the crappy label sends that get sent to Global Domination:”

Amen to that.

2,5

Information
Released: 2010
Label: Lifeforce
Website: Raunchy MySpace
Band
Kasper Thomsen: vocals
Jeppe Christensen: vocals, keys, programming
Lars Christensen: guitars
Jesper Tilsted: guitars, keys, programming
Jesper Kvist : bass
Morten Toft Hansen: drums

Tracklist
01. Dim the lights and run (what the fuck?)
02. Rumours of worship (it’s ok, they’re only rumours)
03. Blueprints for lost sounds (that should remain lost)
04. Nght prty (txt spk)
05. Street emperor (do I really have to type these all out?)
06. Shake your grave
07. Tiger crown
08. Big truth (these guys suck)
09. The great depression (is listening to this album)
10. The yeah thing (…nah)
11. Ire vampire
12. Gunslingers and tombstones

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