Six Finger Satellite
Paranormalized
Sub Pop Records
Release Date: 1996
Ages ago and light years away, when King Ronald and Queen Margaret occupied the thrones of the Northern Hemisphere, two armies of noisemakers waged a war for the ears and minds of the young. The two had different uniforms and languages, but the main difference between them was their choice of weapons.
One called themselves the Punks. They wielded beat up guitars (some, of course, wielded them better than others). The other tribe, the Electronicists (they had several other names, but this one will probably get me picked on the least), preferred keyboards and synthesizers. Most of the kingdom's subjects thought the two tribes had nothing in common, and could never resolve their differences.
The Electronicists looked down their noses at the Punks and called them primitive. The Punks screamed expletives at the Electronicists and called them twee. There was a battle, and many of the Electronicists were extinguished. The Punks beat them to death with their out-of-tune guitars.
The kingdom settled down and went about the business of buying records from the Punks and their descendants -- Nirvana, Green Day, Offspring, Fugazi, etc., etc. The Punk regime was so oppressive that most Electronicists went into hiding, refusing to admit their former technological affiliation.
Yet there were members of both armies that were dissatisfied with the outcome. They intermarried, vowing to bring the two sides together, to blend the cool noises that synthesizers could make with the utter satisfaction of smashing a Fender.
And one day, Six Finger Satellite was born. The absurdity of Devo wedded to the aggression of Screeching Weasel. The sheer noise of Sonic Youth blended with the electronic sensibility of Blondie. The rebels rejoiced; it was good.
Six Finger Satellite's Paranormalized is the latest installment in this ingenious quartet's career. You've got to expect a lot of the band who won its contract with Sub Pop by sending the label a tape of faux-grunge metal, just because the band members knew it could get them signed. Boy, were the nice Sub Pop people in for a shock when SFS's first full-length album, The Pigeon is the Most Popular Bird, was unleashed on the world.
And boy, are you in for a surprise when Paranormalized is unleashed on your stereo. This is no Reznoresque electronic angst-fest. A third of the tunes, like the minute-and-a-half slamfest "Last Transmission," make you want to smash something -- a tribute to SFS's punk ancestors. Some, like opening track "30 Lashes," cause neck spasms as you bob your head to a tune you can barely find. And the remaining selections just make you laugh. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. You can't take yourself real seriously if you sound anything like Devo.
The SFS boys aren't full of anger, just aggression. It's kind of like the hyperactive kid you used to baby-sit. He didn't throw the cat across the room because he didn't like it. He just had a lot of energy and wanted to see what would happen.
So sever your attachments to melody and give it a spin. There are always at least four things going on at once, so there's no way you'll ever get bored. While J. Ryan is wailing away on his voice distorter and giving his moog a workout, drummer Richard Pelletier is experimenting with some time signature that nobody's bothered to invent yet. James Apt captures (rather than keeps) time on the bass, and John MacLean recreates his alien abduction on his keyboards.
It's music you actually have to listen to in order to get. Paranormalized is not the album to turn on and tune out. You might not even want to turn your back on it -- it might rewire your brain when you're not looking.
-- Lindy Powell
powell@outersound.com
