Neither as evil as Ozzy’s 1988 opus, No Rest for the Wicked, nor as funny as the film career of comedy giant Chris Farley, the Wicked Farleys tread ground similar to that of Stereolab, with results not nearly as fresh or exciting. Repeated listens failed to ignite a real interest in the band, who feature alternating male/female vocals and sound a little more “rock” than the ‘Lab.
I know that someone on this large planet we call home will appreciate this—perhaps it’s the girl with the funny glasses who’s really into Swedish pop and shoegazer bands—or maybe it’s the guy with the slicked-back hair and the Broadcast pin on his satchel. It’s possibly the old man who sits outside of Caputo’s Meat Market drinking screw-top wine out of a paper bag and yelling catcalls at the young ladies who pass him by. It could be any of them, but it isn’t me.
// Notes from the Road
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