If you surf to Yahoo!'s Google-powered search engine and type in "droopy butt begone," you'll get two results. One link leads to a subsite of www.menstuff.org that "provides information on what women's periodicals are telling women [because] it is important that men understand what primarily women are telling women about men, relationships, beauty, and sex." Got that? If not, just nod your head and say, "Yeah, vanity's fucked." Then run your fingers through your hair.

If you follow the other link, you'll land at 1-Speed Bike's site at Constellation Records. Here, you will read about how this is not a band, but rather the "electro alter-ego of Aidan Girt, drummer for the Montreal-based bands Exhaust and Godspeed You Black Emperor!" You'll read catch phrases like "punk irreverence" and "ramshackle aesthetic" and think, "Hmm, sounds pretty cool." Then you'll remember that these are the record company's words, and that they're saying these things to intentionaly make the recod sound cool-- maybe a lot cooler than it really is. Or maybe you won't think this. Maybe you never make it past the word 'Godspeed' before you're already sold.

But let me rationalize: Droopy Butt Begone!'s street date is October 23rd. This doesn't even give you enough time to absorb the first disc of Godspeed's brilliant double album, Lift Your Skinny Hands like Antennas to Heaven, which sees release on the same day. So, I'll assess 1-Speed Bike in light of the fact that your hunger for all things Godspeed will have been at least temporarily satiated by the time this comes out.

"I'm just going to flush the toilet, okay?" a man says amidst swirling electronic shits. "I need some quiet for a bit." A mechanized, crapulent beat steadies the song for the long run, making an issue of this musical incontinence. Increasingly quickening stutters soar and eventually collapse into silence, mid-song. The music then rebuilds with whining synthesizers that Girt's stripped to the bone, backing them up with actual drumbreaks not at all dissimilar from those heard on DJ Shadow's Endtroducing... (the comparison is overused, yes, but nonetheless apt).

So, how's this related to Godspeed again? The following rant closes out the song: "First, this is a declaration of love for my family... Second, this is a declaration of war against... the people who designed, implemented and continue to maintain the system called capitalism... Thirdly, this is a dedication to all that make sacrifices in the struggle... And fourth is me talking about politics and reality instead of blinking and blonking. If it bothers you, go fuck yourself, because I got enough friends as it is."

Uh, okay. So this is what Constellation means by "punk irreverence." Maybe what they really meant was "heavy-handed Godspeed-style manifestos." Must've been a typo. Really, this is still cool—- he's in Godspeed!

Girt rips off DJ Shadow even more egregiously on the record's second track (the name of which is too long and convoluted to reprint here). Applying the same formula—- sampled live drums and electro effects and/or samples—- the music sounds like a jam session using the scraps of a defunct, Industrial Revolution-era factory. Sounds okay, right? Except for the jam session part: the song has no movement, nor does it offer anything new beyond the sonic introductions of the first half-minute.

But maybe that's a good thing; because the third track, "Yuppie Restaurant Goers Beware Because This Song is for the Dishwasher," starts off beautifully with lulling one-drum paddles and cascading chimes, transporting the listener to a futuristic spatial paradise. All of this is ruined, though, by what must be the soundtrack to the next sit-in, highway-speeding arcade game. By the time I arrived at the beginning of Droopy Butt Begone!'s second half, which begins with "Why Are All the Dogs Dying of Cancer?," I couldn't help but wonder if repetition mutates skin cells.

After "My Kitchen is Tiananmen Square," a track that fails to live up to its title, the album finally comes full circle with "Any Movement That Forgets about Class is a Bowel Movement." I don't need to tell you how the song sounds; I already have. But to elaborate, here's Girt's final manifesto: "We will keep farting until we all die laughing. We will keep farting a long time because we just ate sauerkraut and beans and drank a quart of gin. Can't beat that smell—- not with deodorant. I can smell the guilt in your eyes, but if you want to hold me responsible, then I can take it like the woman I am."

Sounds like he's been reading too many magazines written by women about men for men to understand what women think when they see a men's magazine that focuses on men with wives who publish women's magazines. Or maybe he hasn't gotten past the Freudian "anal phase," as evidenced by the flushing toilet that ends the album. In either case: Droopy music begone!

-Ryan Kearney