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Ah, my beloved Barbarellatones. I hate to think what six months would be like without a new CD in my mailbox…
One of the best things about Barbarellatones albums is that you never quite know what you’re in for. Like a ’70s exploitation flick, the territory is familiar, but the execution is distinct. Where the last outing, Surf Narcs was chock full o’ punk rock and The Break-up Ghost before it was incredibly dark almost to the point of being goth-y, Confessions… finds head honcho Robbie Quine in a whimsical, dreamy mood, i.e., if the aforementioned albums were cocaine and heroin (respectively) this one is ecstasy. Really, it’s Robbie’s psychedelic pop masterpiece that explores the outer regions of head music, as in “Sperm Whale,” “Endless Journey” and “Song for Siddhartha,” while drawing heavily from Americana, e.g., the cover of Jan and Dean‘s “Dead Man’s Curve,” the main riff for “She Mates, She Kills!” and the country & western trash of “Transvestobilly Boogie.” Then the two combine in the title track, where Robbie delivers deadpan vocals of frank, disturbing lyrics over trashy rock’n‘roll that shifts to a krautrock groove in the last minute and twenty seconds. Even the most punk songs (“Mommy’s Gone Insane,” “Bad Vibes,” “Do the Tranny Trot!”) exude psilocybin from every pore.
“We’re Breaking Up,” a remix of a song from Robbie’s old band, Sex With Lurch, reminds me of The Bee-Gees for some reason.
Barbarellatones CDs make me happy, and I can’t wait for the next one to see where Herr Quine takes his twisted take on glam/punk/psychedelia/trash/rock’n‘roll. It’s always a helluva ride.
