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King Brothers | review | rock | Lollipop

King Brothers

(In the Red)
by Jon Sarre

First thing ya notice is this record's really loud, like louder than everything else in the CD changer, loud like their buddies'n'countrymen Guitar Wolf is loud. Next thing ya notice is ya can't understand a fuckin' thing they're sayin' cuz it's so loud that the cacophoniality riding the back, front'n'foreground drowns out the vox, but I probably couldn't understand it anyway cuz I don't understand Japanese and they may be singin' in their mother tongue, but I dunno, it could be Engrish too. They yell about whatever they yell about with some sorta desperation or anxiety or like they're in a real hurry to get to the next song. King Brothers do get into a fuckin' groove tho' and stick with it for a while with a sorta a quasi Russell Simins rack attack, gettin' all screwed up there betwixt a post-Pussy Galore twin guitar attack and organ too on some of 'em at the beginning, but they musta got sick of that, cuz it doesn't crop up too much later. It's not really "garage," cuz it's that uniquely fucked up Japanese-type music where the characterizations are probably best left to the handicappers in Vegas or mathematicians, or someone better qualified than me to tell ya exactly what this is supposed to be called. Uh, rock'n'roll. It's rock'n'roll. Crazy desperate outta breath outta cash booze'n'dope action, soundin' like it was recorded at the bottom of an empty swimmin' pool and more fun than you'll ever be!
(PO Box 50777 Los Angeles, CA 90050)

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