Song of the day – 496: Primitive Calculators

Bunch of bitter, going-to-seed, 50-something men pretending they’re still 17.* I can relate.

The other side’s even better. It’s like Industrial Records never needed to exist. Try denying the rampant gob of  ‘Cunt Life’; try denying the rampant sardonic basic sarcasm of ‘Sick Of Myself’. “Look at us,” they spit, bile overflowing from every orifice now that they’ve been through emergency gall bladder surgery. “WE SUCK!” No room for melody or intransigence because life fucking gets worse every stifled, stunted year that passes.  Noise annoys, but silence scars even harder.

“I WISH I WAS SOMEBODY ELSE!” they can barely be bothered to scream. The song goes on far past endurance. Of course it does.

Not one to play when you’re getting cosy with your beer and TV, not one to woo a prospective lover with unless they wrote the fucker and even then you may well be wishing you were slurping someone else’s tonsils fondly pretending that the rest of the world still gives you a second glance. It’ll give you the shiggles.

Nonetheless,  the new Primitive Calculators single – their first in three lifetimes – is single of the year. And that year is 1977.

Odd how ‘Cunt Life’ reminds me of the classic Alberto y Lost Trios Paranoias EP ‘Snuff Life’. It’s a thin line between hate and humour.

*And one woman.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.