We music reviewers take ourselves way too seriously. It's kind of a power trip because you get to say whether an album is good or bad, and then you think people are actually going to listen to what you had to say. You picture bands of greasy hipsters and crusty punks huddled in an alleyway, covered with newspapers, sucking on their thumbs, and not eating because you gave their knock-off a bad review. Reality, of course, is nothing like this. Greasy hipsters will eat because they have trust funds and crusty punks don't need to eat because they have drugs and nobody gives a shit about what music reviewers think and there is always somebody somewhere that absolutely loves the band to whom you gave a shit review. We can trash and we can praise and we can try to maintain our credibility for the sake of longevity but longevity is fucked because things are going downhill and zombies are going to take over and then we won't have any music reviewers or bands or greasy hipsters. We will all just be crusty, crusty punks.
And when that day finally comes, I'm gonna be the zombie poppin' and lockin' out in the middle of the field "with his headphones on, and the volume up," listening to (Re) Move Your Body. Fuck brains, fuck crowds, that shit will all be past tense. As music has satiated me in life, so shall it do when I join the legions of the undead. Not just any music will do though. My rigormortis will demand a hip-hop beat dripping with molasses and blood. My rotting eardrums will demand computer processed vocals, which enhance, rather than detract, from the flow of the music. And my much simpler, more evil, brain will demand uncomplicated lyrical schemes about corporeal shit I can understand, like reanimation and death.
It's albums like (Re) Move Your Body that don't really apply to the conventional ratings system. You can give it a 1 or a 5 or a 4.37 (editor's note: sorry, I forced him to choose something), but it doesn't really matter because it exists somewhere outside the realm of conventional understanding. This is one of those albums that is enjoyable and fun and unique, kind of like the nerdy kid who always got picked on in elementary school and you tried to become his friend but he was just way too weird so you gave up and he didn't really care because he knew you were all douche bags anyway so he just kept on doing his own thing and then he moved away a couple years later. If that is not awesome, I don't know what is.
1. I'm a Superman
2. Daughter of Sam
3. I Can't Hear You
4. Forever Endeavor
5. 654321
6. (Re)move Your Body
7. Right Now
8. Let Him Go
9. Acoustic Fence
10. I Believe You
More about: Mahi Mahi
