No Genre review

No Genre
2/24/2010
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"Lou Reed comes in many different flavors. There's the proto-twee bedsitter who wrote "Sunday Morning" and "Pale Blue Eyes." Then, there's garage rock god who tore it all down with "Sister Ray." There's the baroque poet-cum-lounge-singer who recorded Berlin. Of course, there's the coked-out chronicler of glam sleaze in Street Hassle and Transformer. And, then there's the guy who recorded Metal Machine Music. But Reed's greatest iteration was the man who showed up for the Loaded recording sessions. This is the man who wrote "Sweet Jane" and "Oh Sweet Nuthin'" and "Lonesome Cowboy Bill" and "New Age." This is the man whose life was saved by rock'n'roll.

Woozy Viper are not Lou Reed, but I don't think they aspire to be him either. But the duo from NYC sound remarkably like Reed at his peak, circa Loaded. On their debut album, which you can grab for free here, the band present a dozen gloriously uncomplicated songs that sound refreshingly like rock'n'roll. No studio wizardry. No electronics. No arch irony. No authenticity claims. No volcanic guitar solos. No leather jackets. No nothing but rock'n'roll.

I'm tempted to say that the songs are deceptively simple. But that's not right. These are simple songs. But what was ever wrong with simple? The Ramones were simple. The Dead Milkmen were simple. Most of the best of Loud Reed was simple. Simple never steered anyone wrong. Simple is refreshing these days. Check out "Rent," a cow-bell driven jam about, um, how much it sucks to pay rent. Then there's "King Kong," an ode of sorts to, um, King Kong. Sample lyric: "He tried to steal the girl even though he couldn't fit it in the girl." And guess what "Love Scented Candles" is about. This album is so free of bullshit that it completely disarms you.

Woozy Viper trust their songwriting enough to leave everything dangerously unadorned. And most of the songs pay big dividends. "The Switchblade Swing" is a wry cinema verite tour through the hell that is modern hipsterdom ("Who you trying to be?/I'm just trying to teach you the motherfucking switchblade swing."). But it's the music that's the big draw here: it's loose and ragged with its acoustic guitars and tambourines and effective rock scatting ("That's right, that was a scat, [it] makes me feel good"). The album closes with the its highlight, "It's All Over." Our singer is breaking up with his girl, and he couldn't sound happier. It's not interested in lobbing accusations; he's not going to drag the past out to dissect. He's just telling her that it's all over. Simple as that. And what could be fucking greater than that?

Rating: 7.5/10"