SETH SWIRSKY
Instant Pleasure (EMI April Music)
Reviewed by Erick Mertz

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Arguably, this is the worst record I've ever heard in my short time reviewing music. One can't begin to quantify the painfully weak and trite virtues of Instant Pleasure, a self-indulgent, wishy-washy piece of music with nary a shred of real salient value. Swirsky wants everyone to believe he is both decadent and humble; one part Paul McCartney, two parts Noel Gallagher; a lyrical poet, a whimsy poet. Truth be told, Swirsky is none of those things, at least as evidenced by this album. There are cardinal sins in music infinitum, but the greatest of them is producing mediocre, flippant forgettable music and unfortunately Swirsky is guilty here.

You can tell he's talented, you can tell he's earnest and it seems vitally important you know the bands in his CD collection, but a dull toothed beaver gnawing through wet birch bark is vastly more appealing. Do yourself a favor: instead of giving the money you'd spend on this record to a "starving artist" like Swirsky, give it to a homeless person, there are too many out there.

© 2004 - Erick Mertz