Reviewer slams Pokemon, Pocket Size albums
Movie soundtrack is vomit inducing
Barf!
If the Pokemon (pocket monster) movie is
as bad as the soundtrack, then Mickey Mouse has nothing to fear. Unless
he hears the soundtrack himself. Then you'd see him puking in the Disneyland
parking lot while Baby Spice cheerily sings "Hey You, Free Up Your Mind."
After Billy Crawford tortures the listener
with the "Pokemon Theme," some girl named M2M sings an entire song in this
ridiculous baby voice until the listener overdoses on her saccharine coated
crap.
God, I'd like to bust that Britney Spears
right in the mouth. One or two more times.
Spears contributes "Soda Pop," a lame feel-good
song where she makes "soda pop" rhyme with "she-bop, she-bop." Wow!
N-SYNC sings a tender love song that makes
me just want to give each of the boys a big hug.
Then get 'em in a headlock and show 'em
what I learned watching ... uh, well, Pokemon.
"Don't be a brontosaurus," sings B*Witched
on their track "Get Happy."
That's good advice, since the brontosaurus
never actually existed.
Paleontologists recently discovered that
what they thought was the brontosaurus was in fact a skeleton they had
built out of two separate species of large dinosaur that happened to die
right next to each other.
I guess one can't expect a group of overgrown
Skipper dolls to know that.
The bimbo parade continues with the girls
from 98 Degrees.
On "Fly With Me," the group more than justifies
throwing them out of an airplane from an altitude of 8,000 feet.
Mandah bores us further with "Lullaby."
I wouldn't mind showing Mandah my pocket
monster.
If you slog a little further through the
mush and phony sentiments you get to at least one decent track. Blessid
Union Of Souls contributes "Brother My Brother," an acoustic antiwar song.
At least the CD cover becomes a poster
that you can paste up and hurl sharp objects at.
Pokemon will keep puking on no matter how
ridiculous the idea that Pikachu would want to aid Ash in the enslavement
of the Pokemon race.
Jason
Kosareff
Music
critic
|
Music group shows 'rock is truly dead'
"To your left is the once ferocious rock 'n'
roll, now nothing more than a sorry fossil here in the Museum of Washed
Up Music," said the tour guide.
The specimen that shows rock is truly dead:
an album called "100% Human," by Pocket Size.
I didn't want to believe that tour guide
entirely, so I played the album and the following is what I discovered
-- not only is rock dead, it has decomposed into a foul smelling sludge
that literally chokes you until you vomit harder than Oasis' Liam Gallagher
on a Sunday morning.
Pocket Size would have David Byrne turning
over in the grave he should already be in.
"100% Human" is a 100 percent rip-off of
Talking Heads.
Only unlike the Heads, who were once original
and had artistic credibility, Pocket Size sorely lacks either criterion
for making music.
Not as cute as Natalie Umbruglia, not as
clever as Blur, not as fun as Ash, Pocket Size is just sort of doing it
for the sake of doing it.
It looks like electronic music and rap
will still reign supreme unless something drastic happens in rock, so that
100% human means something will be added to the music.
Songs like "Death of Me" and "Sunbeam"
are perfect as a soundtrack to the television show Friends, but those songs
lack the muster to really affect the listener.
Liz Overs is a capable singer, creating
atmosphere and a bit of a seductive sound with her romanticized lyrics.
Ultimately, she's a dime-a-dozen vocalist
and quite frankly I don't by into her yuppie-ish seduction.
Likewise, Darren Pearson knows his way
around a guitar, but if I hear one more guy strumming an acoustic guitar
I think I'll get Pete Townshend on him and slam my old 808 Roland drum
machine over his head.
It's all too human to long for things past,
but when music is evolving on a higher creative plateau thanks to the advent
of digital instruments, it's not wise to remain 100 percent human.
Pocket Size is an apt name for a band whose
musical outlook is totally provincial. |