Mother Mother – Eureka

First of all, I don’t get why it’s okay to be a dickbag to people who don’t have kids. I was at a party last Friday, having a discussion about social policy (admittedly I was saying that the state should pay people on welfare for not having children they can’t care for), and a friend’s girlfriend, apropos not that much, interjected to tell me that if I don’t have kids then nobody will care about me when I’m old. Then, when I tried to ignore her she repeated it, only loudly so that everyone could hear. She’s normally a very demure, domestic character, so I can only gather that she thinks it’s socially acceptable to get all personal if it’s in the service of telling me I’m going to die alone. And I’m a guy; I have trouble imagining how annoying that’d be for a 29 year-old woman with no kids. Which is a lot of them, so what the hell?
And no, I’m not in a hurry to introduce another unwilling participant into the game of trying to battle suicidal thoughts every other day, which seems to be my genetic line’s lot. Why, this entire unemployed morning of mine was taken up by trying to order my dead mother’s birth certificate so that I can one day apply for Irish citizenship, because that’d be super neat, don’t you think?
And if they keep putting out albums like this one, their musical offspring will be stuck trying to order MOTHER MOTHER’S birth certificate, or something, because er…this album isn’t very good and stuff.
This album doesn’t sound much like Mother Mother, and while I’m all for artistic growth, these songs sound like a batch of kinda meh Mother Mother songs run through the Early Aughts-Production-O-Tron. There are random voice samples and production “tricks” all over the place, the drums are mixed way too loud, and the guitars are all glossy like a shitty Christian rock album. It’s like they’re trying to hit a weird chord of radio-ready “edginess”, angsty yelping, and still functioning art, and none it works like it should. There are big power chord guitars that drop in for musical breaks and choruses. There are blippy “voice appears and disappears” samples. There’s obnoxious speak-singing. There’s ain’t-I-cute really high notes. There are drum machines that come in for two bars then disappear. God, it’s almost unlistenable.
Here’s a couple more examples, both from the Prozzak-wannabe song “The Stand”: They blurred out the f-word all songs for no reason, then say it at the end, again for no real reason. Then the singer guy laughs at this hilarity like a total dipshit. Secondly, when the song mentions vodka on ice the production team thought it’d be nice to put in the ice clinking sound effect.
It’d maybe be more tolerant if the songs were spectacular, but they never get past being merely catchy. Especially “My Baby Don’t Dance,” but even that is halfway ruined by over the top attempts at cuteness. I get that we all want to have hits, but shiny production isn’t a surefire way to do it. And don’t get me started on the steady stream of uncute, unfunny couplets that pop up four or five times per song to make me roll my fucking eyes. I can’t anymore, it’s too infuriating, knowing how good these guys are capable of being.
On the plus side, that did help with my complaining about mental health and people hurting my fee-fees. So shitty music works in funny ways. Gotta run some errands. Thanks for the motivation, Mother Mother!

3 / 10

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