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Burn Witch Burn | review | indie | alternative | rock | Lollipop

Burn Witch Burn

by Jamie Kiffel

On thise yeare of 2000 Anno Domini, the Spanish Inquisition finds due reason to proclaim RODNEY LINDERMAN (formerly known as Rodney ANONYMOUS of The Deade Milkmen), one VOCALIST and TIN WHISTLER, and VIENNA LINDERMAN, one VOCALIST and VIOLINIST, guilte of the crime of WITCHCRAFT. They are aided and abetted in this moste heinous Crime by another, Bill Fergusson, BOUZOUKI and OUD player (we know not whate this is, but its name is bedeviling enough to be the work of Satan himselfe), Rob Piekarski, Steve Demarest and Todd Yoder, MUSICIANS (and Lord knows that alle musicians are Satan's Spawne). Hailing from one Pennsylvania, this self-proclaimed SEXtet singes of (1) Massacres, (2) Tortures, and (3) Enslavements. Beholde more proofe: There is talke of "a bright baby boy" with "skin like a snake's"; a dog with "only one eye and skin like a toad's"; "Genitalia"; "LED ZEPPELIN"; "Grandma's in the basement screamin' 'bout the little men" (that's no basement but a DUNGEON to you, you young upstarts), and one MICK JAGGER, possessor of the mouthe of the Greate Evil (determined at last Inquisition, when compared to One devile child, Stephen Tyler).

The greateste proofe, however, of this WITCHERY is that the voice of VIENNA seems detached from the recording, spirited perhaps, a voice from beyond the grave that knewe not what the reste of the band was playing. Her lilting tones seem sung to the beat of a different drummer. The lot of us still found it so moving, we re-moved all oure clothing and temporarily halted the proceedings to dance to it in a most pleasurable way, but this is off the Recorde.

The voice of RODNEY is wilde and not unlike They Mighte Be Giants, another bande of revellers with a name of questionable intent, but which was found to be free of guilte and full only of Absurditie.

The tunes upon this Disc consiste of finely-crafted, merrie olde English Jigs, done in the style which we like quite well and under less legale circumstances, would happily use as Moode Music for a few turns around the Racke with our noble Ladies. Yet because of their lyrics, all of a highly Questionable nature, and we being Inquisitors, and thus set to find all things Inquisitable, we must settle for some olde Irone Maiden to settle our collective dyspepsia.

For those rascals amonge you who enjoy such things as fine, olde English music with deeply evile words but complete with authentic HURDY-GURDY playing, by all meanes, purchase Burn, Witch, Burn. But know ye this: we wille be knocking upon ye doore, looking to borrow it - and YOU - for a midnight jig.


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