Wallace Wylie

THE BAD REVIEW Undead Apes – Grave Consequences (Merenoise)

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by Wallace Wylie

I’d like to get something off my chest before doing my whole review thing. I hate this zombie thing that people are into right now. Fuck your stupid pseudo-nerd, zombie-loving, humourless, witless horror movie bullshit that is dominating a large portion of popular culture. Fuck Buffy The Vampire Slayer. And Fuck Firefly too. Yeah it’s set in space but I’m putting the boot into this whole phony “I’m such a big dork” nonsense that embraces whatever substandard sci-fi/fantasy/horror cultural meme currently in vogue, reveling in some kind of self-congratulatory 30 years too late b-movie schlock appreciation. I’m tired, OK. So very tired. Werewolves, mermaids … whatever the fuck it is you think is so hilariously lowbrow and nerdy. I hate it all.

Anyway, with that out the way, let’s get on with reviewing the newest release by Undead Apes, named Grave Consequences. Did you hear that? It was my whole body heaving a heavy sigh. The first track is called ‘Eat Yr Brain’. Come on. Really? OK, let’s get it together here. The music … what does the music sound like? I could start comparing it to the people it sounds like but the review would have to end at some point this century. Green Day? Sure. Dead Milkmen? Oh go on then. Can I stop now? Can they stop now? Is there anything good about this album? It’s short. That’s definitely a plus. I’m probably going to have to provide proof that I listened to the entire album or people will get annoyed. Well, there’s one song where they sing “Gimme gimme E.S.P.”. The song’s called ‘E.S.P.’. In one song they sing “If we don’t share body heat then we’ll get hypothermia”. The song’s called ‘Hypothermia’. Happy now?

What is the point of this album? Fun? Look, I know how to have fun OK? Things got pretty crazy just the other night when my reading group played “Spot the Ulysses allusion”. Out. Of. Control. This kind of bratty pop/punk isn’t my thing, and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been anybody’s thing for a long time. Perhaps some Pop/Punk’s Not Dead stragglers? The guys in the band are probably really affable dudes who like a beer or two before re-watching The Evil Dead. They probably don’t worry about what’s cool and just go out there and have fun, etc, etc. I’m probably being too harsh. “You don’t fault a theme park for not being a Cathedral,” somebody said, at some point, about something. Can I fault a fun park for being filled with predictable rides? I’d like to think so. Anyway, I have to go. My reading group just started discussing latent homoerotic imagery in the poetry of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. This could kick off at any second.

P.S. Here’s a link to the GOOD REVIEW.

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