So, I guess Pissed Jeans missed playing mostly Throbbing Organ songs live before recording King Of Jeans. Their early reaches for sluggish DC hardcore are once again marked on this newest release; as such, King Of Jeans drunkenly gropes for leverage in the shadow of Hope For Men, the band’s sophomore and punk rock magnum opus. If one is going to fault Pissed Jeans for apathy and lethargy, then one is not in the loop (in this case, probably the drooping oval). This four piece amplifies exhaustion, and generally yields fine results by doing so. Hope For Men may be as weary as King Of Jeans, but it still had the clout to walk down the block to the liquor store while King Of Jeans fell asleep on the toilet.
The opening half of this disc is pretty miserable. “Pleasure Race” and “Request For Masseuse” are a feebler and de-bearded Virus impression. “False Jesii Part 2” bursts into the room after an adrenaline high from their previous album, but quickly loses it’s momentum once the sticky “Half Idiot” falls on its face. While there is plenty of charm (if not more than their earlier output) in the first half, it is consistently pitiable. The absurd moods and grudges of “vocalist” Matt Korvette evoke some doom and faint traces of sludge, all of which usually trip on their Velcro shoes. The middle of this album just feels lobotomized, where “False Jesii Part 2” was the goodbye kegger to the band’s frontal lobes.
Experimental baboon hormone injections are underway by the time “Human Upskirt” rolls around; It’s a contagious hardcore beating, and has some eye-teeth scars from Ceremony all over it. Best track “Spent” is doom research that passes with flying grey colours, a shocking result in lieu of earlier clumsiness. On “Spent”, Bradley Fry worships his amplifier in a pentagram of feedback, Korvette welcomes the demonic possession, and Sean McGuinness impresses with the drums he is not hitting. “R-Rated Movie” is a bass driven number delivered by Randy Huth, butchering dance punk in the best way possible. “Goodbye (Hair)” is a premature mid-life crisis and again recalls the quality and drudge of “Spent”. It would seem waking up outside and under newspaper after a night of boring schmooze gave this disc some much needed impoliteness.
These troglodytes sell indifference like no other, and yet the constipation freak outs only improve their style. Sub Pop has taken a gamble with this signing, and after two albums it seems to be paying off. Due to a stronger finish, this whole mess might just be worthwhile. Or is it? I don’t care.
(6.2/10)
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