Well, I could probably fill this page with a critique concerning the name Gay For Johnny Depp itself, but I secretly suspect that’s exactly what they would want me to do, and I’m simply not going to give them the satisfaction. The bastards.
Instead, let’s talk about a pretty successful second full-length release from the New York five-piece, the follow-up to 2007’s ‘The Politics Of Cruelty’. If you’ve heard their debut then you’ll be aware that it contains more than a few songs about fucking, and, as you may have guessed, fucking actor Johnny Depp in particular. In much the same way as legendary soul artists such as Marvin Gaye and Bill Withers make love to your ears through their music, GFJD absolutely fuck the shit out of them. This record, in the main, does not deviate from their winning formula.
Bursting into life with ‘The Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny And Artistic Integrity’, it’s clear that you’re about to be musically assaulted for the next eleven tracks. With barely time to pause for breath, we’re straight into the throbbing bassline of ‘Suckcess’, which, with its crashing drums and brutal chorus, is arguably the stand-out track of the album. ‘She Has The Hottest Limp (It’s All Noize)’, true to the bracketed section of its title, is a bit of a bloody racket, with Marty Leopard‘s vocals conjuring up images of an ADHD-suffering thirteen year old flipping out at his perfectly reasonable mother for not letting him stay out as late as the rest of his gang of friends. In a good way though.
Part of the appeal of GFJD from their inception has been their attention-grabbing, and often hilarious song names, and they certainly do not fail to live up to expectations this time around, with titles such as ‘Humility Is For People Who Don’t Comprehend Their Own Mortality’ and the genius ‘No, I’m Married To Jesus. Now Keep Your Fucking Hands Off Of Him’. The band clearly aren’t taking themselves all too seriously, and wouldn’t expect anyone else to either. ‘Nine Inch Males (Born To Hate)’ returns once again to the beautiful and sacred act of lovemaking; “She fucked her! / He fucked us! / They fucked each other! / What a fucking mess!”. It’s almost poetry.
Perhaps the album’s only low point is its closing track, a cover of Slade‘s ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’ (or rather ‘Cum On Feel The Boize’). A tongue-in-cheek effort, but piss-poor nonetheless, and one which surely would have been better utilised merely as a live favourite or an obscure b-side, rather than tagged onto the end of the album as what seems like an afterthought. Yet, charging through at just under twenty-two minutes in length, you can’t help but feeling, after the initial shock of the audio-rape you’ve just received, that you’re left gagging for more. In fact, with seven of the tracks coming in under the two-minute mark, the listener is almost torn between the longing for another ten or fifteen minutes of mayhem, and the hectic yet succinct beauty of it all.
Released on Valentine’s Day, I can think of nothing better as a gift for your partner. If he or she happens to be a bit of a fucking nutcase that is.
Written by Matthew Frederick