Monkey Steals the Peach by Narcoleptics (Review)
When you encounter a band whose slogan proudly proclaims “Rock So Hard, Your Brain Will Piss Out Of Your Butt,” you should get a general idea of their musical philosophy. What caught me off-guard, before I even listened to the first note, were the anatomical diagrams of male and female genitalia upon opening the CD case. Not to mention the insert photo of a woman’s naked chest. And the song titles? “Kill Your Parents, Eat Your Dog, Do Drugs” is definitely creative, but “Sweet Tarts And Anal Rape”? Where exactly are these guys coming from? Then I read about lead singer Marc’s wrongful arrest for allegedly being a notorious Philadelphia rapist, and things started to make more sense. There is some definite anger behind the music. Again, this was before I even hit “Play.”
By the way, the Narcoleptics do rock. Mercilessly. For those familiar with Ouicksand, imagine a stylistic mix between both “Slip” and “Manic Compression,” with less melody and more nihilism. Throw in manically varying tempos, and you get a crazily aggressive brand of East Coast hardcore-influenced rock. Marc and fellow guitarist Rich (who left the band a few months ago) create a chaotic atmosphere with sharp riffs that straddle between metal and hardcore, leads that border on atonality, and powerful choruses. Rhythm section Kevin (bass) and John (drums) are up to the task as well, providing a solid, passionate backdrop.
The results are pleasant — the “Slip”-era Quicksand-cum-Sunny Day Real Estate aggression of “You Can’t Polish A Turd”; the pure catharsis in the chorus of “H.N.I.C.”; and the final desperation of “Black Vixens In Heat.” Occasionally, there are lapses into stale metal riffing. “The Hot Carl” is nearly ruined by the main riff, and a similar riff mars the otherwise excellent-sounding “H.N.I.C.”
As for the lyrics… well, you should have an idea of what to expect. Amidst a vicious musical setting in “I’m Not Going To Jail For You Or Anybody,” Marc sums up his feelings about his false arrest succinctly: “I hate your guts you fucking pig!” The rest of the lyrics don’t get much gentler than that, shifting from broken relationships (“Pretend from the taste of her vagina that I fell in love again…”) to violent imagery (“I got this gun I think could hurt you”), and so forth.
My only complaint is that some of the lyrics become nihilistic to the point of genericism. Saying “fuck” several times and using first-person gun-related lyrics are neither new nor creative; just look at today’s Billboard charts, or even the now-defunct East Coast band Orange 9mm (some of their songs, such as “Gun To Your Head,” suffered the same problem). Conversely, anger that is backed up by powerful, creative music becomes undeniably strong, and this effect is achieved several times over the course of the album.
Aside from a couple of flaws, this is a strong band whose hard work has paid off. With some better production and a larger label, Narcoleptic could do very well for themselves. Hopefully they can continue to carve their own stylistic path on their future work.
Written by Chris Martin.