Vibrolush
Touch and Go
[V2]
Rating: 3.2
Last week, I thought I'd transcend my cloistered monk's existence and make
a sightseeing trip to the local Virgin Megastore. I'd long been suppressing
the urge to view the inspiring, world-conquering vision of
balloonist/adventure-capitalist Richard Branson and the multi-level
consumerist Hades he's created on our Earth. Here's an excerpt from my diary
entry of December 12th:
"Walking past the Cerebus-like security guards, I'm instantly mesmerized by
the in-store DJ's booming Satanic commands which echo through the product-laden
aisles: 'Welcome, Virgin shopper. Check your dignity and individuality at the
door. You are now hypnotized by the irresistible sounds of shameless
conformity. Here's the latest from Vibrolush, called Touch and Go.
Check it out.' These words put me in a deep trance. As if controlled by a
force more powerful than a Robert Christgau consumer tip, I begin a slow
shuffle toward the "best sellers" shelf like Frankenstein's monster, arms
outstretched in front of me. 'Need mindless pop music,' I moan, as frightened
shoppers rush for the apparent safety of the cappuccino bar. I snatch the
Vibrolush disc from the shelf, eyeing the $1,317.99 price tag. 'Bargain,'
I say."
Of course, by the time I got home, I'd regained consciousness, and reluctantly
played the Vibrolush album I was somehow hypnotically coerced into buying. Of
course, I felt cheated. I'd heard of Vibrolush, as they hail from my home city
of New York. They took their name from a body massage vibrating unit. Funny.
Probably pal around with members of the Crash Test Dummies in constant
preparation for rock stardom: stiffing Abdul the cab driver $10, extinguishing
cigarettes on hotel lobby couches, hassling sensitive actor-waiters in
four-star restaurants. You know the drill.
These days, it's difficult to say whether the '70s are more popular than the
'80s. This dilemma triggers a crazed form of stylistic schizophrenia in a
commercially-minded band like Vibrolush. They figure, just to be safe, they'll
sample a bit of both decades. Of course, a decidedly contempo touch is always
present-- those ubiquitous pansy-ass trip-hop beats, in this case. In fact,
it's amazing how bland and creatively-stifled this band is, especially
considering they try and throw every sound imaginable into the mix: saccharine
string sections, acoustic and electric guitar, Moog, samples, fake sitar,
scratching. It's a band desperately attempting to incorporate and exploit any
and all potentially marketable forms of auditory stimuli available to Mankind.
Offering about as many compositional surprises as Ricky Martin's two hit songs,
most of the tracks on Touch and Go are driven by that ever-efficient
droid behind the drums, always programmed for 4/4 caucasian-friendly funk
rhythm. And, sadly, all too often the verse lyrics are "rapped" in that
hopelessly goofy white-guy delivery, the raspy vocals themselves sounding
like George Michael gettin' "Too Funky" with strep-throat. There's the simple,
limp-wristed guitar strumming giving way to the odd power chord, usually
signaling that there's another supersized chorus on the way.
The title track is a prime example of ridiculously hooky, easy-listening pop
trash with pockets of dreamy guitars and annoying Moog sounds floating around
the yeah-whatever verses leading to the sore-thumb choruses. Sadly, it more
closely resembles Wham!'s Make It Big than New Order's Technique.
These guys also ape a lot of guitar from early Pumpkins (specifically
"Rhinoceros," from Gish-- yeah, you remember) before Billy Corgan
became alternative rock's answer to Yngwie Malmsteen.
They're a little late on the '70s bandwagon here, though, as evidenced by
their techno-funk re-working of Steve Miller's "The Joker," paying a loving
tribute to the undying 3-D glasses-wearing poor man's Jackson Browne. Who
thinks this retro-chic so-uncool-it's-cool school of thought is still, uh,
cool? They also steal a title from the '80s Cure hit "Just Like Heaven."
It's just another dopey, cloying tune in which someone is "lost and found,"
and also a "child in your arms." Of course, for all you Cars fans, you've
probably already realized that the Cars had a 1980 album called Touch and
Go, with a hit song bearing the same name. Boy, these Vibrolush guys
really do their research, no?
Well, maybe Touch and Go will allow these gents to live a life full of
major label-subsidized sloth and rock-God shiftlessness-- an existence that
their 9-to-5 jobs at Tower just won't accommodate. Although, with the cost of
living in yuppie-clogged New York these days, better bail Puffy outta jail,
'cause the fashionable thugs in Vibrolush will need a lot more than this one
minor hit record to make the rent.
-Michael Sandlin