Space Monkeys
The Daddy Of Them All
[Interscope]
Rating: 6.8
"Shit! As if my problems weren't enough," I thought, as the huge, white, lead sled
made contact with my ride at a high rate of speed. I watched the ripple of crumpling
steel and exploding fiberglass coming toward me for a moment before the airbags
deployed and it was over. In the radio, playing all the while, were those craz-ee
Space Monkeys, bless 'em.
Exiting the vehicle, my feet crunched on the debris of my lights, my fenders, my
engine, my radiator. Green slime ran like a river as I brushed the airbag powder
off my chest. I walked around, climbed in the backseat, crumpled up into the fetus
position and listened.
I can't beef these boys. Sure, they're following closely in the footsteps of Oasis,
but the combination of shrill, boyish British angst vocals and heavy Fluke- like
techno beats works both for the tech- terrified and the pop- jaded types. Ah man,
my head hurts. There're blood spots on my fingertips. I hear sirens. The Space
Monkeys play on, undaunted.
If you heard Definitely Maybe, you've got a decent idea what we're looking
at. The Daddy Of Them All has a much beefier lean toward aggressive (and
decidedly dance- friendly) beats, and rather than sprinkling tracks with egocentric
moments of quietude designed to imply depth, these new kids are content to
demonstrate their depth with electronically generated texture. Sure, it's got
guitars. Hell, it's even got a Sugar Ray carbon- copy in "Sugar Cane," and I can
only hope that the track name and the sound are not mere coincidence. I can hear
voices outside. People shouting. Red and blue lights are reflecting off the headliner
of my car. The back door pops open, and a State Trooper beckons me outside.
Flashlights are stuck into my eyes, I see the destruction I have wrought, and part
of me is so grateful that I spent that moment of peace in a world turned to chaos
with those careless British boys with the Beatles in their blood and tech in their
step. Easy.
-James P. Wisdom