The Monorchid
Let the Eat...
Simple Machines / Dischord / Lovitt
Release Date: 1997
Their label calls Monorchid "a firecracker of a five-piece." Hot damn! I'll say. Let Them Eat... explodes out of the stereo like a cherry bomb in a crowded closet.
Followers of the beast that is DC punk will recognize Chris Thomson's distinctive yapping from his tenure as the Circus Lupus frontman. But Monorchid turns it up a notch by stripping things down. The thinner, tinnier sound makes the tunes all the more flammable -- less noise to distract from the raw energy. Don't bother trying to save your ears by lowering your stereo. This shit breaks glass at any volume.
Chris Hamley and Andy Cone's guitars twist in and out of one another without ever sounding remotely thick or muddy. The barbed-wire hooks have a distinctly bluesy feel, scraping in a Jon Spencer-kinda-way. But where Spencer and Bauer cop a slovenly feel, Hamley and Cone borrow politely without a trace of obnoxious shtick.
As gripping as the music is, it's Thomson's power drill vocals that really make
this mule kick. Sounding precisely halfway between a whiny seven-year-old kid and a grumpy 75-year-old man (and I mean that as a compliment), Thomson spouts off on societal ills with the zeal of an anarchist with a pipe bomb in his backpack.
It would be interesting to sit in on a Monorchid songwriting session as the tie
between vocals and music is often quite loose. Reading the lyric sheet, you can't imagine that the words could fit into anything resembling a song. And they don't -- not in a traditional sense, anyway. The vocals range from long, rambling rants to concise, repetitious phrases. At either end of the spectrum, the phrasing is more sing-song than melody. Conventions like rhyme aren't completely thrown out the window -- they're just twisted into a new model. And when Monorchid does come through with a sing-a-long-able chorus (as in "Midget Housing"), it's all the more catchy.
The songs are quick bursts of adrenaline -- not a one reaches the three minute mark. "Oral Fixation Anonymous" is the standout in my book. The twisted Romper Room guitar lick and Playskool drum breaks make the child molestation lyrics all the more disturbing. And I dare someone to come up with a more deviously fun chorus than the "I.L.L.L..." shout in this tune. It's a butt shaker of the highest order.
The sweeping lead guitar of "Distortion" makes it sound almost epic -- remarkable for a tune that clocks in at under 120 seconds and contains a grand total of 11 words. Other subtle creative touches ward off the monotony that often plagues punk long players. A xylophone doubles Thomson's voice on "Controversial Trousers." And industrial-ish distorted vocals add a great edge to the "We Will Rock You"-brand of throbbing guitar and bass on "Curse of the Potty Trained Children."
With its collective tongue stuck out too far to be anywhere near its cheek, Monorchid is the antithesis of typical slacker rock. On the excellent track, "Southern Fried Wonton," Thomson snarls, "This is not an obscurist track and I am not a mathematician and I propose a realness test to uncover all the counterfeiters and confederates and to support my recklessness." It's all heart and guts, as genuine as can be.
-- Jon Carson
carson@outersound.com
