Here’s something I bet you haven’t heard before: A 4-piece modern rock combo with an disenchanted female singer who makes flippant pop culture references as a way to “connect” with listeners. The cynicism with which I greet this record can be illustrated in the sheer number of quotation marks that appear in this review. It’s not that Shooter’s record is that bad. It’s just obvious that they have put no effort into doing something even vaguely original or different, and that’s even worse than making a bad record.
This is made-for-radio material with enough uses of the word “bitch” to give Shooter that oh-so-pivotal “edge” coveted by the record industry. Just listen to these fabulously original song titles: “Life’s A Bitch,” “This Is Who I Am,” and “Love Is What You Hate.” There’s even one about a psychic hotline. How “relevant” of them. I know, everyone is throwing bits of pop culture into their songs, but the ineptitude with which Shooter does this is shocking. I’m no Barenaked Ladies fan, but even their mentions of X-Files and Kurosawa are smarter than Shooter name-dropping Ricki Lake. Shooter only gets positive points for being British, but that can’t save this painfully average M.O.R. outfit. To top it all off, “Life’s A Bitch” has been featured on that bastion of high-brow culture, Dawson’s Creek.
As they sing in “Somedays,” “Somedays you’re eating chicken/Somedays you’re sucking on the bone/Somedays you think you got it made/Somedays you can’t find your way home.” That may be, but unfortunately for Shooter, they’re now lost and choking on that bone.
// Notes from the Road
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