Akin to an amusement park ride hazardous to pregnant women and those with heart failure, Sweep the Leg Johnny return to the recorded format with Sto Cazzo!, a dense, scary, blood-warming collection of tunes that ask the listener to not only hear but to comprehend their intertwining, intertextual musical landscapes full of jagged edges and open sores.
For a band who used to sound a lot like A Minor Forset, Sweep have come into their own, and are now more cocky and chic than they’ve ever been. Employing burping (and sometimes unnecessary) saxophone ejaculations over fields of erratic riffs, the band has evolved into something truly unclassifiable. And on tracks like, “The Fine Wrinkles; We Have All of Them,” and “Walking Home on the Emergency Bed,” their unique sound rips through the paper-thin walls of mediocrity, creating agit-prop music not unlike an intense biophysics exam. Wherein my only gripe lies: Sto Cazzo! demands almost too much attention from the listener. Eschewing traditional concepts of melody and syncopation should not be frowned upon, and in fact, I support it. However, don’t even think of putting this on as background music, you’ll either wind up with a fork in your eye if you’re eating, or with a small animal combusting internally, leaving you to clean up the mess with Sweep the Leg Johnny offer an evil look and a cold smile, and just keep on playing.
On a less offensive note, the record is showcased in beautiful blood-red packaging, with a great cover and an attractive layout, sure to get any impressionable date to ask you, “oh, what is this? Can we put on?” At the risk of repeating warning of server complexity, I can only tell you that Sweep the Leg Johnny are the worst “date” band I’ve ever heard.
// Notes from the Road
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