Sometimes I wish Frank Zappa had gone into abstract painting rather than have one bit of influence on modern rock music. Just because your "art" pushes people's buttons doesn't mean it's automatically good. If the music isn't remotely enjoyably then you are definitely in the wrong genre. And this music by Alice Donut pushes buttons, but it is rarely if ever enjoyable. It left me feeling sad and angry, disappointed, grossed-out, and repulsed. It was painful having to listening to it all. And perhaps the biggest sin is not that it is awful; it would be easier if it were. The music is not bad, nor is it good, but it is almost always obnoxious. I suppose they are trying deliberately to be, but that doesn't mean I have (or want to) hear it.
The band was formed in NYC (Columbia University) in 1986. If they played a bunch at CBGB does that make them punk? Everything tells me that I should like this band...but I do not. Not at all. I am sorry. I tried, but the more I listened the less I liked.
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| Alice Donut (Art by Ron Hart) |
One of my main questions is, How did such a supremely mediocre band get signed to Jello Biafra's Alternative Tentacles record label? There's a few songs that get slightly fast on the first couple albums, but mostly they are awkward start-stop kind of songs and the rest are mid-tempo if not slow chuggers. Maybe the politics align? Who knows though because I can't understand much of what the guy is saying. I might agree with the sentiments of "Tipper Gore" if I could understand any of the words. Rather than insightful social commentary, I have come to expect juvenile potty humor. And it's all sung in an obnoxious shriek somewhere between Biafra and The Dead Milkmen. But whereas The Dead Kennedys had brilliant, ironic satire and the Milkmen had comedy, these guys offer neither. Just sneering obnoxiousness and "jokes" that might be funny the first time but do not stand up well to repeated listening. Not at all. The crudeness gets old fast. The dirty noises at the start of "Death Shield (live)" are some of nastiest stuff I've ever heard on a record and "I Want Your Mother" isn't much better; fuck these guys for making me listen to this shit with my kid in the car! Their album, from 1988, is called Donut Comes Alive, which would be half-funny if it was a live album. I kinda liked the punkish cover of Donovan's "Sunshine Superman," despite the piercing vocals. But the album as a whole is disappointingly devoid of original concepts: "American Lips" is such a hodgepodge of almost-ideas that it literally sounds like they are mocking a Dead Kennedy's song, or like Weird Al covering "We Didn't Start the Fire" but without anything funny to say. The lackluster music cannot carry the dead weight of empty ideas.
After listening to their first album I was left irritated and angry, and that's not right. It's not just that these half-baked ideas get sent into the world as though they have great value, while more interesting bands wallow in obscurity. I swear this music would be more interesting if it was worse, but it is the fact that it is neither good nor bad that really irks me. It's just basic rock music, masquerading as something more. There's something shady about that.
The second album, the absurdly yet somehow appropriately titled Bucketbulls of Sickness and Horror in an Otherwise Meaningless Life (1989), offers simply more of the same. It's also on Alternative Tentacles and weirdly every song is marked "explicit." Why bother? Few if any of the lyrics are decipherable, and I listened repeatedly and carefully. "Sinead O'Connor on TV" may have had something to say, but I could only make-out every other word. I wish I couldn't hear the lyrics to "Dorothy" or the unacceptably cruel and vulgar "Lisa's Father", which probably isn't even really recorded live at the CBGB's, but it doesn't even matter if it was. Clearly, when making a song about incest/rape, they are trying to write offensively bad music; unfortunately, they are just awful it. You, sir, are no 45 Grave. Awful screeching and tuneless guitars pollute every song here. Examples include, "Egg," which is just shrieking nonsense, and "Consumer Decency," which again sounds like it could almost be a Dead Kennedy's song but is really just about bagging groceries and "I beat him to death with a boneless chicken" or some shit. I am starting to get it: none of this happened, none of this is real, nothing matters. The lyrics are just straight up gibberish. These guy are wasting my time with endless drivel masquerading as important ideas. There are no ideas here- at least none communicated with any clarity. Sometimes I wonder if they are doing that DK thing wherein they are playing the type of music they are making fun of: some of theses sounds like mocking pop-rock or exaggerated hair metal. But if that's the case, as in the quasi-epic of ""Bucket, Forks, Pock," then the joke is funny exactly one time: the song is a pretty good parody or novelty song, but it's not a good actual song. I will give them this- it doesn't sound too much like 1989: it sounds like whenever. There is a certainly timelessness about it when they aren't even trying to capture the zeitgeist.
The next album, Mule, is their most successful and yes- that warbling, high-pitched screech will be present on every single song. I don't care what the fuck he's saying or what the music underneath is: after a certain point it just becomes intolerable; I want to cover my ears and run away. The most brutal death metal is better listening than this nightmare. The supposed highlight is snotty, trashy cover of "My Boyfriend's Back" with altered lyrics: "my boyfriend's back and he's gonna kick your ass in" and there's a line about chopping him up and feeding him to goldfish. JESUS H CHRIST - this is exactly what it would sound like if a bunch of 6th grade boys decided to form a band. And then these asshole think I want to hear them sing a regular style song ("Tiny Ugly World") and strum the acoustic guitar? What a bunch of dicks. Ridiculous and embarrassing to everyone except those obliviously involved themselves. Revenge Fantasies of the Impotent is up next and guess what? More of the same: half-baked, unformed, unimportant songs, this time marred further by muddled production. A rare high point is the entertaining instrumental cover of Sabbath's "War Pigs," which is loose and delightfully playful; the trombone, played by the drummer, is a welcome change. Maybe it's just the voice I find intolerable?
I'll allow it; here's what it sounds like live:
The trombone is back again for another near-instrumental on the next album, "She Loves You She Wants You It's Amazing How much Head Wounds Bleed," which is also tolerable, but goodness these people must find themselves hilarious. Speaking of live hilarity, their fake live album actually made me laugh hard - a lot - but not after repeated listening. I wasn't thrilled to hear these forgettable songs again in live renditions, but their feigned stage banter is hilarious. And the crowd is obviously fake, but that's OK - that many people wouldn't even fit in CBGBs! It was all really funny - that first time through - but not something I would listen to on purpose a second time.
There's another album Pure Acid Park, which has a promising title but does not follow through with anything new or different. That live album is actually released after this one, so in 1994.
Then they break up in 1995, but don't worry - they still play out sporadically and return in 2001 and release another album in 2003. The two or three reunion albums sounds like they are really just for themselves. I suppose I can understand that. Sadly, they have lost their timelessness. Even though it is the early-2000s by now, Three Sisters sounds very much like a product of the 90s: the production on the drums is weird; on some tracks the snare pop sounds exactly like Helmet, that is to say - overproduced hardcore. This now sounds like a third-rate grunge or alternative rock, while the supposedly clever lyrics remain indecipherable. I mean, what's the point?! There's a long, jammy, angular song on 2006's Fuzz called "Madonna is Bombing Sarajevo," that I kinda liked, but it was an anomaly. Everything on Ten Glorious Animals is completely forgettable, excepting the relatively faithful cover of The Pixie's "Where is My Mind"...and even that would be pointless if not for the trombone replacing the lyrics: it's another welcome reprieve from the usual vocals.
I've only now, upon review, realized that their latest album Freaks In Love is actually a collection. It explains why all those songs are "remixed and remastered" - and also why some of the songs got played for me so frequently (they are in the mix twice or more). Great. The collection commemorates their 25th year as a band, and there was a DVD movie to go with it. I supposed I'm happy that these folks never needed to get day jobs, but I am not eager to hear more. Not at all.
Someone at The New Yorker once called this band a "dadist punk ensemble." LOL- as if. That sounds awesome. Critics have also likened them to Frank Zappa, and that I agree with. When you're more interested in being different than being good, don't be surprised that the resulting music is bad.
The girl who joined the band on bass at some point, Sissi, married the vocalist, which explains how they are still able to have occasional reunions. (The other guy in the band briefly joined Rasputina, which no offense--and I don't even love that band--is a big step up.) How in Hades is their last/most recent show at the Ottobar in Baltimore in 2017?! Their lame-ass website confirms this; though it hasn't been updated since then; sorry, folks, the message board seems to be down.
And for the record, every single one of their album covers is as ugly and dumb as their music. I guess that's on purpose.
Amusical nonsense from obnoxious jerks: it's still not the worst music I ever heard, but I do hate it. Sorry, punks.
