Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Bands That Suck Balls: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

With April almost over, Spring is officially in bloom with college coeds having returned from getting STDs at tropical vacation spots and the MLB season in full swing. Unfortunately this time frame also marks the start of the yearly phenomenon known as festival season. Once the weather gets nice random cities across the country big and small start hosting their annual gatherings of bands that suck balls. Now when you think of festivals, you often think of some hippie fest where a bunch of white kids with dreads eat mushrooms and dance in circles to String Cheese Incident. Note to my stoner buddies: these gatherings don't really bother me that much. I mean M.O.E. will play All Good 25 yrs in a row before I am ever forced to actually hear their music in society. No the festivals I'm referring to are the mass hipster festivals where the trendiest of the trendy bands headline, and up and coming noise-rock shitbags go to stake their claim to douche rock stardom. Hipster grad students without real jobs somehow spend hundreds of dollars to jetset across the country and buy tix to as many of these fests as possible. Not to enjoy the main band that is "Sooo last year's Outside Lands" as much as to name drop the newest band just getting on the scene that they saw play some craptastic set. Like this year's breakout group at the recent Coachella festival and Band That Sucks Balls: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart.

It seriously just pained me to type out the name of this collection of asstards. I mean I thought we had pretty much hit the Mt. Everest of lame nonsensical hipster band names with "Death Cab for Cutie," but boy was I sorely mistaken. "The Pains of Being Pure at Heart"..? WHAT? I mean if you gave me a choice between "Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood" and "The Pains of Being Pure at Heart" and asked "which one is a rock band and which one is a Sandra Bullock/Ashley Judd gal pal flick," I'd just flip a coin. Ridiculously horrible name. Their appearance of course lives up to the standard set by their lame moniker. A key ingredient in any hipster band is of course a chick with bangs, and ugly chick, or an Asian girl. Well lookie here! We've got ourselves and ugly Asian chick..with bangs! PERFECT! Also should probably have a guy with a haircut a chimpanzee could give someone: See guy on the left with his douche combover and spaghetti strap suspenders holding up his skinny jeans. Then of course comes the douche band wardrobe essential: the sweater. Well we've obviously got Mr. Rogers over here second from left in his Rad red Cardigan sweater and picnic table shirt, and the band leader far right rocking his V-neck/pink shirt looking solemnly at the camera with the standard neutral expression all lame bands use during group shots. Lets take a listen as to what audio excrement these assfucks shit out and purport to be rock:

Ok even though these guys blow donkey balls on all levels, the first question that comes to mind. What in the fuck happened to the rock singer? I mean I'm not expecting Robert Plant to front every band out there, but seriously give me something outta your voice that sounds like you've grown a pube this century. What the shit is this asshole doing? Some sort of sad, whiney whispering in a nasally tone. That is not singing by any standard. "Whimpering puppy in a kennel" is not a vocal style. Of course since the frontman can't hold down vocals by himself, his female counterpart assists in harmonizing the whining on the hook. Good, at least Margaret Cho does something worthwhile besides tapping two keys on her casio keyboard once every two minutes.

The guitar attack can as usual be described in one word: Strumtastic. Just lots of repetitive strumming of three chords, followed by slightly louder strumming of three chords, and then the grand finale...Loudest strumming of three chords. Sweeeet.. I don't even know what to tell you by the bassist. I mean..did you watch that second clip? He literally contributed NOTHING to the performance other than a cardigan sweater. He just fucking stands there looking glum..holding..his bass, until the great strum-off to close out this pansy jam about finding the heart in heartbreak. I will say that the drummer is not bad, but his backbeat and solid fills can't drown out the ocean of super lameness in front of him. Go back to Williamsburg (Yes of course they're from Brooklyn) and open up a fucking bike shop you pack of assclowns. I don't want to hear your breezy emotional strum rock, anymore than I want to listen to Charles Barkley recite the Gettysburg Address. Your band accomplishes nothing other than being pure pain to my goddamn eardrums. Take that to heart cocktasters.

Anyways, what else really needs to said about these shitheads above? I will now move on to more positive news and say that since I don't support music like the aforementioned Pure Pains of my Sandy Vagina, I spent Coachella weekend in NYC seeing an actual rock show courtesy of up and coming rad band Taddy Porter. I've mentioned them before and they're good on record, but they absolutely ROCK COCK live. If you have a chance to check them out in your city you definitely should(most likely at some small venue since..duh...they don't play shitty electro fuzz strum noise...can't fill an arena). They are a badass band and if you show enough enthusiasm in preserving the spirit of rock and roll by getting buck wild in the crowd, they will even pound beers and shoot the shit with you post Rad show. So check them out:!/taddyportermusic?sk=info

1 comment:

  1. You are fucking hilarious. And I agree with you on every point.