| Welcome to the LOUDEST DOT COM ON THE PLANET! |  |
|
|
 |
|
| Welcome to the LOUDEST DOT COM ON THE PLANET! | |
|
|
|
|
Britny Fox Springhead Motorshark By Jeff Kerby, Contributor Monday, October 6, 2003 @ 12:41 AM
Slit out to fuck you Coil Dilapidated tree Your mash face monster color of me.” Oh, fuck… are you kidding? No, wait! Hang on a minute—this may not simply be a bunch of nonsensical horseshit after all. Nope. Instead, maybe we’re supposed to look into the deeper meaning of the words and try to find our own personal truths. You know, like the “Coil” is really a piece of imagery regarding your grandma and the dilapidated tree represents injustice in the world. Unfortunately, the lyrics don’t get any clearer on the fourth song, “LA” where the singer waxes nostalgic about his past love while simultaneously declaring his affections for his partner: “I remember a day When lightening struck my heart A second time But those days are gone And maybe I just don’t deserve To sing along anymore.” B-O-O H-O-O. I’m tearing up just thinking about the sentiment inherent in this song. It really takes me to a place, you know? Unfortunately, it’s a place where chimpanzees roast walnuts while playing the ukulele, but everybody’s got to be somewhere, I guess. Musically, I realize that it’s an arduous task to accompany such lyrical genius with a suitable melody, but Britny Fox manages to create both basic constructs and instrumentation that would have sounded right at home in the AOR friendly recesses of the late ‘80s glam metal revolution—a revolution bands such as this one along with Steelheart, Danger Danger, Firehouse and Warrant helped kill with their milquetoast impersonations of those who simply did it better. I’m convinced that somewhere out in the Midwest or maybe even way down South, there is a mother of at least two illegitimate children who is waiting for her welfare check and who has now turned to a life of whoring and drug addiction simply because she just can’t face the fact that at some point in her confused life she went down on one or more of the members of this band. I imagine the secret beginning to torment her sometime around ‘92 and not relenting for any appreciable time since. The more I think about it, I actually can’t say that I blame her -- there just really isn’t any reason for that type of behavior. There really isn’t any need for this disc. Go back to sucking the crack pipe lady—it simply can’t get worse. Oh yeah, actually it can -- Steelheart, Danger Danger, Firehouse and Warrant could all release new albums -- I think I can hear the chimpanzees and the ukuleles even now. *
| |||||||
|
|
| Recent Reviews |
 |
|
Some things in this world just aren’t necessary—for example, peanut butter and jelly need never be packaged in the same jar, and J-Lo doesn’t exactly need a prosthetic ass any more than Barbara Striesand should desire a larger nose. That’s kind of the way it is with Britny Fox’s new album Springhead Motorshark. You see, rock needs this record about as much as Yngwie Malmsteen needs a key tar or Vince Neil needs another hooker. Can you imagine two rock fanatics at the local cd store going, “Geez, I’m not really interested in a new Guns N’ Roses disc—no, and forget any new Aerosmith that may come out. Nope, what I really want is for Britny Fox to come out with some original material. Shit, they were great!” 